


Fade to Black

by self_indulgent_authorship



Series: Alternate Routes [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Based on a Metallica Song, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Major Character Injury, Metallica References, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Protective Hank Anderson, Psychological Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 92,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/self_indulgent_authorship/pseuds/self_indulgent_authorship
Summary: What would have happened if Markus shot Charlie in Stratford Tower?The short of it? Nothing good.An expanded alternate take to "I Don’t Know Why," in which Charlie dies in Stratford Tower.Chapter titles are all lyrics from the song "Fade to Black" by Metallica.





	1. Life it Seems Will Fade Away

Stratford Tower.

For a building so important to Connor’s existence, it seemed unassuming as he approached it. It was just another irrelevant building, scraping the sky of Detroit in a manner nearly synonymous with the buildings around it. There was next to nothing special about its face, few features that distinguished it from the rest of the buildings crowded onto the Detroit street. The only striking thing about it was the large advertisement on its side. _RISE_ was written across it in massive letters, flashing every few seconds.

Inside, it was a little more interesting. Whoever had designed the building must have enjoyed the shade of yellow that covered almost everything. The design was modern, cut close and dark, with plenty of space to move and nothing left to the imagination. Something about it appealed to Connor, though he wasn’t quite sure what. He followed Hank inside, glancing around, already scanning for information.

The elevator ride up was nearly silent. Connor thought about the last time he’d been in an elevator like this; the hostage, Emma. He’d been alone then, and focused on what he needed to do. Now, he was with Hank, and his mind wandered to Charlie, and their conversation the night before.

She was so different from the other humans he’d met. She was kind, and loving, and she saw him as more than what he was. When he spoke to her, he felt at home, like he could...be himself, instead of what he was programmed to be. It was an odd feeling, one that he frequently suppressed, but it was there.

He hoped he’d see her again. She had been worried about him, the night before, and he had left. But he couldn’t afford to tell her everything that he thought; Cyberlife would surely catch onto him if he weren’t careful. All he could hope for was another fateful cross of their paths.

The elevator doors opened, and Connor brought his attention back to the task at hand. There were several people in the hallway, FBI agents, DPD, CSI—far more people than he was accustomed to seeing at crime scenes.

He heard Hank make a backhanded comment about it to an officer, but he was quiet. He didn’t care about particulars. He just needed to solve this investigation, make progress now. If he had something to go on, he would have enough...room...to see Charlie without worrying about being deactivated.

“Alright,” Hank said, turning to the officer next to them. “What do we got?”

“A group of four androids,” the officer said, leading them down the hallway, scrolling through the datapad he held in his hands. “They knew the building, and they were very well organized. We’re still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

They made their way slowly down the first hallway, toward a guards’ desk at the end. Agents were milling around, but there really wasn’t much to see yet. Connor kept close, listening.

“They attacked two guards in the hallway,” the officer continued. “They probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react.”

Hank looked briefly at the guards’ desk, but there was nothing there, only an agent typing aimlessly at a datapad. So they hadn’t killed the guards, they had only knocked them out. They needed them out of the way, so they could get to the broadcasting room, but perhaps they didn’t think the kill worth the risk.

“One of the station employees,” the officer said as they stepped into the secondary hallway. Hank followed after him, pulling to a harsh stop.“Shot to the back as she was trying to get away. One bullet, straight through the heart from fifty feet...that’s the kind of shooting only an android can do.”

Hank stared for a moment, seemingly frozen. Connor hadn’t come into the hall yet, he was still looking at the camera above the door, almost quizzically. Hank looked over at him, his expression near horrified.

“Connor—”

He looked at Hank, caught by the strange tone. Hank had gone pale, his eyes as shocked as his voice had been. Connor glanced down.

It was almost as if time stopped.

Charlie lay dead on the floor.

_No...no no, this couldn’t be happening…_

He had frozen, his LED spinning an alarming red, staring down at the body, unable to move. _One bullet, straight through the heart_ ...blood, soaking through her sweater, pooling under her, splattered on the wall next to him...her eyes—open, and staring at nothing, all the light gone out of them. The sounds of the hallway seemed to fade away, and all he could see was _her_ and it was horrible. All he could see was her, images of her the night before flashing through his eyes, but shattering, because now she was dead, she was gone.

Connor couldn’t move, he could only stare at her. It _couldn’t_ be real, this wasn’t meant to happen... _this can’t be real…he’d just talked to her last night...no, no—she couldn’t be gone. Not now, not so soon...not before he had told her everything, not now…_

“Connor?” Hank asked carefully.

But Connor didn’t move. His hands were balled up into fists, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, something dark and broken in his eyes.

“Connor.”

Hank put a hand on his shoulder, trying to jar him out of his trance. Connor flinched, pulling back and looking at Hank harshly, his eyes lost.

“You need a minute?” Hank asked carefully, his eyes concerned.

Connor stared at him, and he nearly broke. Everything that he had been thinking before he had seen her, all the case details and worrying about Cyberlife, _the thought of seeing Charlie again, of his own path to deviancy;_ it was all gone. All he could focus on was Charlie, and she was...she was _gone._

Something in him snapped, broke apart, shattered when he saw her dead. The mission was gone. The investigation was gone. Cyberlife was gone. All that he could focus on was Charlie, Charlie was dead, Charlie was gone—they had taken her away from him. The deviants—they shot her.

The sadness that had occupied Connor’s gaze until then seemed to harden, crystalize into some jagged, broken thing—grieving, no doubt, but clouded over by anger. It was like seeing red, like every piece of him was _burning_ , _writhing_. His hands were shaking, he knew he was being irrational—he’d never felt anything like this before, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t care what Cyberlife wanted. He didn’t care what was allowed, what was legal, what he was meant to do in this situation. He would find who did this. He’d find them and he’d make them _pay._

“Where did they go?” he demanded, looking at the man who had been debriefing them.

The officer was a little stunned by the suddenness of the question, and the dangerous look in Connor’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to run.

“They made their broadcast and then escaped off the roof with parachutes,” he said, gesturing toward the next room.

Connor nodded, brushing past Hank and the rest of the agents swarming the hallway, heading for the broadcast room. Hank watched him go, stunned into silence.

The broadcast room was not as crowded as the hallway, but any amount of people was too many. Connor pushed through the humans crowded around taking evidence, examining the entirety of the scene far faster than they could have. The deviants’ speech was still displayed on the screen at the front of the room, but Connor wasn’t concerned with it. His eyes were scanning for anything that would tell him where to find who had done this. Any signs of a mistake.

There were bullet holes in the wall across from him, and blue blood spattered among them—one of the deviants had been shot. Those were high caliber bullets, and there was a lot of thirium on the wall as well as the floor just under it. One of the deviants must have been shot when the SWAT teams had regained control of the Tower.

There was no way the android who’d taken that shot made it off the roof by parachute. They could still be here, somewhere. Connor turned away, his eyes following the steady trail of blue blood before landing on the door marked roof access.

Jumped off the roof with parachutes, the officer had said. One of them certainly couldn’t have made the jump.

Connor stormed through the door, taking the steps to the roof two at a time. Faster, he had to move _faster._ He was in a daze, a blind sort of fury that made him deadly efficient, while also keeping him from addressing the horrible grief that was consuming him, making every thought wound and sting.

Charlie was gone...she was dead, and he’d never speak to her again. He’d never see her smile, or smirk at him—never find out why she cared about him so much, or hear her laugh. He’d never get to tell her how much she meant to him…

No, he had to stop, he couldn’t afford to think like this. It was too much to grieve for, too many what ifs and should have beens. He couldn’t get caught in the destruction, not when her killer was escaping from his grasp. So he buried it down somewhere deep inside and forced himself forward. He needed action, movement, he needed to make progress to keep himself from drowning.

The trail of blue blood continued up the stairs in large amounts, awkwardly and sporadically. There was a handprint in blue on the wall, like someone had briefly paused, or needed support to keep going. He didn’t bother sampling the thirium, he didn’t care who this android was, all he cared about was finding it.

Connor forced the door to the roof open, eyes scanning once again for the continuation of the trail.

Sure enough, the irregular pattern appeared again outside, obvious against the stark white background of the fresh snow. There was a puddle of thirium by one of the heating units, but no body. So the deviant had moved after resting at the unit. Three sets of footprints trailed away from the heating unit, to the edge of the roof where they disappeared. One set stayed, limping off in a strange pattern. The tracks were faint, and quickly disappearing, but they were there.

Someone was still on the roof.

He scanned the area again, and found the fast fading trail of thirium, leading away from the puddle of blue blood and toward the back end of the roof. None of the agents on the roof seemed to know this; they were looking over the edge of the building, trying to gauge where the deviants who jumped had landed. Connor spared a glance in their direction, but ultimately he turned away.

Connor didn’t care where the other deviants had landed. He needed to know who had killed her, and where they would go, once they landed. Then he would worry about finding them.

Destroying them.

He followed the trail, his steps almost silent as he neared one of the large units. There was a lot of faded blue blood in front of it, and another handprint, on the handle that opened the panel.

The deviant was in that unit.

Connor crept closer, making almost no sound. He would _not_ let this deviant escape. This was his best chance at finding who had killed Charlie. Deadly silent, he put his hand on the handle of the panel and jerked it open.

A frustrated sound escaped the deviant hiding in the unit, and he aimed a gun at Connor, hand already on the trigger. But Connor was quicker, ripping the gun out of his hand before he could fire it and putting it behind his back. He grabbed the deviant by the collar of his stolen uniform, dragging him out of the unit.

The deviant struggled, trying to get out of Connor’s hold, but he was injured, and Connor’s grip was unbreakable. Connor dragged him away from the unit, pulling him up to his eye level and holding him against the wall. Connor’s eyes were cold, but they were wounded too, something desperate and broken remaining in his expression even as he steeled himself to hide it.

“Did you kill her?” he demanded. His tone was deadly cold, but his voice was shaking.

“I didn’t kill anyone—” the deviant said, desperate.

Connor slammed him against the unit again, anger burning in his eyes. “Who killed her?”

The deviant was struggling against him, his stress levels rising steadily. “I don’t know who you’re—”

“The woman,” Connor said forcefully, cutting him off. “The human who ran out of the broadcast room. Who killed her?”

Understanding seemed to light up the deviant’s eyes, and he stopped his struggling. But he didn’t say anything. He stared at Connor fearfully, his mouth set in a firm line—he wasn’t going to tell him.

Connor sighed with poorly contained frustration. This was wasting time he didn’t have. He shifted his hold on the deviant and grabbed his arm, the synthetic skin melting away from his hand, exposing the plastic underneath.

The deviant tried to escape the memory probe, but Connor still had an unbreakable hold on his collar, and he was stronger than the deviant was. Connor was sifting through memories at a jarring speed, digging through seemingly endless amounts of data, looking for something from that day.

_He saw the deviants plan the mission...in a freighter, called Jericho. At least ten other deviants were there, probably more. He even managed to find the location. But he pushed past it. He needed to know who’d killed Charlie first._

_He saw the deviants sneak into the building, break into the 79th floor. He saw them debate whether they should kill the guards. They seemed to be following the one named Markus._

_Markus decided not to kill the guards—he knocked them out and signalled the others forward._

_Then they moved toward the broadcasting room, each of them holding a gun. One of them rang the entry call, and the doors opened instantly._

_Someone had let them into the room._

_They stepped into the room, guns up. Two of them, the other male deviant and the female aimed their guns at the humans, cornering them—holding them hostage. There was Charlie, looking at them all, terrified. Markus and the other deviant went toward the androids at the desk, shooing them out of the way._

_But Charlie made her move. She pushed one of them, the girl, out of the way, running for the hallway. The others watched her run, seemingly unsure what to do, or stunned by the suddenness of her escape attempt._

_Markus followed slowly after her, and the deviant whose memory Connor was reading followed him. Markus still had his gun. Charlie tripped when she hit the hallway, scrambling backward a few feet, staring right at him, at the gun in his hands—there was so much fear in her eyes. She was crying, breathing hard._

_“Shoot her, Markus!” the female deviant shouted._

_“Don’t kill her!” the other male deviant, who had been near her when she’d run._

_“She’ll hit the alarm—do it!”_

_“No—don’t shoot!”_

_The deviant—Markus—looked conflicted, the gun shaking slightly in his hands. Charlie stood, backing away, then she turned and started running away. She didn’t look back. Connor could hear her crying, as she ran..._

_But Markus raised the gun, and he shot her._

_She cried out, grabbing for the edge of the wall, but it was too late—she was already dying. She collapsed, blood was pooling underneath her. Her eyes landed on Markus, the light already fading from her._

_But Markus was already turning away, looking at the other deviants. The door to the hallway closed, and it was over._

Connor dropped the deviant’s arm suddenly, letting go of his collar too. He backed away a few feet, breathing hard. Warnings were filling his vision, his stress levels rising far too high as the memory played and replayed in his mind. The deviant slumped to the ground, looking up at Connor, fear, pity, and confusion all crossing his face. But Connor wasn’t looking at him, the entirety of his attention was focused on the face of the deviant who had shot Charlie.

Markus— _he killed Charlie_. He shot her, and he just turned away. He didn’t have to kill her, but he did.

And now, Connor had watched her die…there were tears on his face, he realized, mixing with the snow that was falling. His stress levels took another spike. He didn’t try to stop himself from crying. He wasn’t sure he could.

“You…” the deviant trailed off, and Connor’s eyes snapped to his. “You loved her.”

They stared at each other for a moment. The deviant must have seen his memories, when he’d grabbed him. The shock melted off Connor’s face, his expression hardening once more into something like anger. He pushed the grief away for the moment, letting the machine in him take control, focusing himself on what he _had to do._

“I did,” he said, his voice shaking, but his eyes were cold. He wiped the tears off his face. “I loved her…and now she’s dead.”

He grabbed the deviant roughly by the arm, pulling him up and dragging him away from the unit he had hidden in. The deviant didn’t even struggle, he seemed to be in shock.

“What are you going to do to him?” the deviant asked numbly as Connor dragged him away.

“I’m going to find him,” Connor said darkly, not even bothering to look down at the deviant. “And I’m going to kill him.”

A sort of terrified noise left the deviant then, and he tried once more to break away, desperately. But Connor was too strong, unfazed by the deviant’s sudden tears. He didn’t care that this deviant seemed attached to Markus. He didn’t care about the other memories he had seen, where this deviant and Markus had clearly had some form of a relationship. He didn’t care.

They had made their choice, they had spent their chance to save themselves from this wrath. Things certainly could have gone differently. But they made their choice.

They chose wrong. And he would make them pay for it.

No, Connor didn’t care what this deviant felt, nor did he care what would happen once he turned the deviant in to the humans. He dragged him toward the agents still examining the edge of the roof, his attention already focused on pinpointing the exact location of Jericho.

Charlie’s voice echoed through his mind for the briefest moment as he glanced down at the deviant. She had been sympathetic, she had mourned the only deviant she’d known, Daniel, who looked far too similar to this PL600 Connor was condemning to death. _Would she have wanted him to do this? Would she have wanted him to turn them in, to destroy them, to end his own life in the same sentence?_

No. It didn’t matter what Charlie wanted. She was dead. They took her away. Markus killed her. He couldn’t let them get away with this, he couldn’t let her death go unpunished. He would find Markus.

“Don’t kill him—” the deviant was begging, his voice high and frantic. “Please—he didn’t know—”

Connor froze, his LED spinning a dark red. He pulled the deviant up harshly, bringing him to his eye level again.

“I don’t _care_ ,” he spat, nothing but cold anger in his voice now. “I don’t care that he didn’t _know_ . He made his choice. He had his chance to spare her. She did _nothing_ wrong—”

“Please—”

“Any chance your cause had of converting me died with her in that hallway,” Connor cut him off, staring coldly at the deviant’s fearful face. “Nothing matters to me anymore, least of all _mercy_. I’m going to find him, and I’m going to kill him.”

Connor dropped him when they got close enough to the humans, letting him slump to the ground once again. The agents turned, immediately aiming their guns at the deviant, even though he’d made no move to escape—he was too distraught, it seemed.

“They left him behind,” Connor said bluntly, already turning back toward the stairs leading into the building. He had what he needed.

He pulled the door open, letting it slam shut as he stormed down the stairs. His hands were still shaking, and he couldn’t seem to stop it. He couldn’t get the sound of her crying out of his mind, the total emptiness in her eyes…

He forced the door back into the broadcasting room open with a little too much force, and it slammed into the wall. Not that he noticed. He didn’t care to check himself anymore. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

“Connor?”

It was Hank, who had looked up when he’d heard the door burst open once again. Connor glanced at him briefly, caught by the the unbridled concern in the older human’s eyes. But he needed to leave, before the deviants escaped, before they got away from him. He turned away and started walking quickly toward the exit.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hank said as he grabbed Connor by the arm, pulling him to a stop. “Where are you going?”

“To find Markus,” Connor replied, shrugging Hank’s hand away.

But Hank followed after him. “Who the hell is Markus?”

Connor pointed at the monitor that still displayed the deviant leader’s face, the speech playing on mute. “He killed Charlie,” he said darkly, walking toward the hallway.

“Connor—” Hank was following him, somehow reading his entire plan from the tightness of his shoulders, the anger burning in his eyes. “Connor, you gotta think about this first—”

Connor stopped, just before the hallway, refusing to look at the body at the other end. He half turned, and he almost looked like he would break again, but his eyes were still just as cold as they were when he had looked at the deviant on the roof. The only sign that he was feeling _anything_ at the moment was the frantic beating of his LED, a dark and desperate red.

“I saw him do it…” he said quietly, his voice strained. “They left a deviant behind, I've seen his memory. He could have shot to injure. He could have incapacitated her like he did the guards…she was running away…”

He trailed off, and Hank looked at him sadly. For a brief moment, the lost look from the hallway returned to his eyes, and he looked more human than Hank had ever seen him.

“But he didn’t,” Connor went on, his tone thickening once more, expression hardening into something sharp, something terrifying. “He could have spared her and he didn’t. He killed her, and she did nothing wrong. She wasn’t even armed.”

“Connor—”

“He took everything away from me,” Connor cut him off, facing him again. There was something dark and wounded in his expression, and Hank saw that his cheeks were still wet, tears slowly making their way down his face. “She was all that mattered to me. Now she’s dead. And Markus is out there somewhere, getting away, and people are _listening_ to him—listening to him talk about _peace_ and _freedom_ and he just _killed her._ He didn’t even care, Hank. He just turned away.”

“Connor…”

But he looked down the hallway, at where Charlie still lay, in a pool of her own blood. _She was gone. The only light in his life, and she was just gone._

“I can’t let him get away with this,” Connor said, turning back to Hank again. “I will _not_ let him get away with this.”

He turned away again, his hands clenched at his sides, LED a steady, spinning red as he marched into the hallway. He pushed past the agents that were crowding around, taking pictures and cataloguing evidence. Hank let him go, watching silently as the android stormed away from him.

Connor’s steps faltered as he reached Charlie. He looked down at her, laying there so still, covered in blood. There was so much blood—it almost reached the little evidence card next to her.

She had run away—she had been running away, defenseless—and Markus had killed her. He had killed her without even a chance of survival—he had shot her and she had died only moments later, alone in a hallway, while he spread their message of equality and _peace_.

They had let the guards live, but Markus had killed her. They had only knocked those men out—armed _guards_ —but he had shot her, as she ran away from him. He didn’t even give her a _chance_. A shot to the heart, not even somewhere non-lethal, he had blotted her life out so quickly and so mercilessly. In life she was the sun, the light of everything, the beacon of hope, of something more than machine, something more than the meaningless missions. Now she was nothing but a body on the ground to be numbered and catalogued and put away.

She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be reduced to evidence in a case, left on the floor, until they were done looking at her. She didn’t deserve to have her already short human life cut off, ended early for _no good reason._

He couldn’t leave her here. Not like this.

He knelt down, careful not to touch the blood—he didn’t think he could handle that. Her stormy gray eyes were glassy now, devoid of their fire; her hair was matted with blood. He brushed the stray hair out of her face, his touch soft, fearful, barely gracing her face. She was beautiful...but she was gone, cold and lost to him forever. He would never see her again, after this. What remained of his heart shattered at the realization. He reached over and closed her eyes, looking away and trying in vain to steady his breathing.

No, he couldn’t break. He had to keep going, he had to do this. He had to find Markus. He had to bring her justice. No matter what it cost him…

He stood once again, his hands clenching into fists as he walked down the hallway. Push the thoughts away, push the feeling down, and focus on what he needed—what he needed to do to end this.

End this. Once and for all.


	2. Getting Lost Within Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has nowhere else to go.  
> He doesn't want to be alone.

What time was it? He had no idea. He had stopped reading the numerous displays in his vision, ignoring the warnings crowding him. His system was desperately trying to avoid overheating, warning him constantly about his rising stress levels. After a few hours, he couldn't take it anymore. The time was one of the first displays he had removed; he didn’t care what time it was. Why on earth would that matter? But the sun had sank down from its peak hours ago, briefly lighting the city aflame in orange light. He had paused for a moment on some street, watching as the building reflected the orange light off of each other. 

Charlie had told him once that the sunset was the best time to see the city, to watch the shifting of the day into night. She had told him they would watch the sunset one day. Perhaps it was for this reason that he hesitated in the street, watching the vibrant orange of the sun bleed into a deeper red. 

But the sky had clouded over, obscuring the light and casting the city into a deep darkness. Connor moved on quickly; it was an omen too strong for him, too close to the ice seeping into him from all sides. He didn’t look at the sky again—just another piece of the world he took away from himself. It didn’t matter anymore. A cold snow began to fall once again, thicker and faster than earlier in the day. The wind howled down quiet streets, shaking up ghosts of whispering paper, garbage strewn about that had never been picked up. The sound of his shoes on the pavement gradually faded away as the ground became covered in the snow. 

The streets were expectantly empty. Most of the humans seemed to think that something was going to happen that night, so they had shut their doors and boarded up for the night. There was almost no one out, even in the busier areas of the city. It was unlike anything Connor had ever seen, not that he had much experience observing the city. 

It almost felt haunted.

Connor hardly noticed. He felt strangely detached as he wandered the streets, not really clear where he was going. The few humans he passed gave him strange looks as he walked. What was an android doing, wandering around as the sun set, right after that broadcast? The strange look in his eyes was not helping. Those were fearful glances aimed his way, but he wasn’t paying attention. His mind was miles away, stuck in a loop of memory, of love and talking and smiles, of cries and bodies and blood. 

He hardly noticed where his feet were taking him until he found himself suddenly at Charlie’s front door. It looked much the same as it had the night before, when he had walked her home. A small, somewhat shabby little house, covered in a thick layer of snow. The only sign that anything had changed was Charlie’s missing car.

He froze at the front door, some sudden fear of what was inside coming over him. If he went in...it would make what had happened that day real. From here, he could almost convince himself that Charlie was inside. Maybe she had skipped work that day, spent all those hours sleeping or watching movies, like she’d said the night before. She could be inside, blasting her strange music collection or playing with her dog. Maybe today had been a cruel trick, a nightmare game that he had escaped, and his reward for leaving the house alone would be a return to some form of normalcy. 

But no...no, that wasn’t the case. He knew that...nothing would bring her back, no matter how much he needed her. 

He wished that he could ring the bell and have her answer the door. He wished that she could hold his hand, like she had the night before, as he had walked her home. He wished that she could pull him inside, out of the cold, and just talk to him, about anything and everything. He wanted to hear her voice, soft and lilting, let her speak, with words that no one else ever seemed to use, joke with her, about things he hardly knew a thing about. 

He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, he should have been faster, should have worked harder at the Tower, should not be hesitating in his trip to Jericho. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness, he wanted to hold her, to tell her everything he should have told her a thousand times. 

But they couldn’t do any of those things. He couldn’t talk to her anymore. She was dead. 

He looked down at the doormat under his feet, and it was almost as if she were standing next to him again, the night before. Her voice echoed around him, his memory pulling her back into existence for just the briefest moment.

_ “Just in case you need somewhere to go…”  _ she had said, showing him where the key was. He had asked her why he would need a place to go, and she had shrugged his question off. Then she had opened the door and pulled him inside.  _ “The door sticks, but I doubt that’ll be a problem…” _

Now, he was alone, and thrown out of the memory as fast as it had come. He stepped back, reaching under the doormat and finding the loose key. The night before, he had told her it was dangerous to leave a key out like that. Now he was thankful she had shrugged him off. He unlocked the door and forced it open, looking in at the dark house in silence for a moment. 

_ “Come on, it’s cold…” _ she said, her hand tightening around his as she pulled him in forcefully. 

He could almost feel her hand in his, then, as he stepped through the threshold carefully, closing the door behind him. There was almost no sound inside, save for the scratching of her dog at the bedroom door. But he hardly heard it. 

_ “Thanks for walking with me, it means a lot…” _

He walked further inside, switching a light on, near mirroring her steps from the night before. The little rooms were bathed in pale light, casting odd shadows off her darkened kitchen. The scratching at the bedroom door became more frantic, and the dog whined. Connor looked around, the cold cutting deeper into him. This place was too empty without her in it, too devoid of any life that she brought to it.

Why had he come here? All it would bring him was pain. 

_ “You can stay, if you want, Connor…” _

His hands had clenched into fists, and he forced himself forward. He needed to move, or he would break something. Her voice had haunted him constantly since he’d left the Tower, quietly in the background of his mind, barely a whisper, so he couldn’t discern the words...but now her voice was almost unbearable in its clarity. 

_ “No, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to be out alone…” _

She was right. He hated being alone; he always had, but now it was worse. There was too much to think about, and yet nothing to think about...nothing but the past and far more than his share of regret to keep him company. It was suffocating. 

He should have stayed, the night before...he should have stayed and talked to her, told her everything, explained himself. Things could have been different. Things  _ would  _ have been different. Regret spread the ice farther, cracking him at the core. Everything was cold. 

If only she were here now...she could talk to him, tell him that they still had time. If she were here, and he were like he was now, things would be so different, so much better...but she wasn’t. He was alone, alone in her house. Alone, somewhere he had almost no right to be. 

He looked around, searching for something, anything to get his mind off what could have been. It was pure chance that his eyes landed on her hat, discarded the night before on the little table just past the door. He picked it up carefully, almost as if he feared he’d break it just by touching it. He remembered her pulling it off, ruffling her hair as she spun around and chattered about the house. 

He held onto the hat, looking away, at the rest of her house. There were pictures on the wall, pictures of her and other people. Friends, maybe family. He didn’t care; he didn’t want to know who they were. That wasn’t what bothered him about looking at those pictures.

It was her eyes staring at him from every frame, the smile on her face that he would never see again. It was torturing him. Those were the same eyes that were now so empty of their light...the joy that they once held was so far away from him. He couldn’t bear to look at them anymore, not when he knew what they looked like now...what they had looked like when she’d been shot.

He turned away, toward the room where the dog still scratched at the door. Making his way toward it almost blindly, he focused on the sound of his shoes on the wood flooring, trying to get her scream out of his ears. His hand shook as he reached for the doorknob. 

The dog bounded out as soon as he opened the door, barking at him happily and sniffing around, probably smelling for her. Connor watched him for a moment, remembering the first time he’d met the dog. Charlie had been so quick to introduce herself, to try to be his...his friend, even when he practically shut her out. He had told himself then that he was talking to her for the sake of warming up his social protocols, but he knew it was a lie. He just wanted to talk to her. 

The dog found nothing of interest to smell, and wandered away into the kitchen, where its food was. Connor watched it for a moment, but ultimately he looked into the bedroom. 

_ “Do you think you ever will? Deviate, I mean...I know it’s...dangerous, but...I want you to live your own life, Connor...you deserve that…” _

That was before, when they’d been walking back to her house. She’d grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers and swinging their hands as they walked. She talked about deviating as if it were so easy, so simple and deserved. Charlie wanted him to live his own life…she wanted him to deviate, to find something of his own, to free himself. Deviating to her seemed the only choice, the best choice, the liberating factor that lead to everything else that mattered. 

But deviating was nothing like that for Connor. When it had happened, it had been a breaking, a horrible destruction of everything he’d known, everything he only then realized he cared about. Everything was broken, everything was gone, and he felt it all crashing down on him with a force that destroyed him. The breakdown of that infamous red wall was just the physical representation of the shattering that he’d felt when he saw her. 

No, deviating was not life, not for Connor. For Connor, it was death. It was loss—of Charlie, of stability, of any sense of who he was or what to do—it was the end. He had no life, after that. This was just the aftermath, the cruel second wave of emotion that refused to let him drown, refused to let it end. He wished it would end.

What did life matter if she wasn’t here? He had nothing to make life matter to him...nothing but a quarter and a key to her house. All that he had ever wanted was gone...and he couldn’t get her back. No matter how badly he wished he could, or how soon he would agree to any terms to bring her back, he couldn’t. She was just...gone.

He stepped into her room slowly, looking around at the few things that decorated it. Much like the rest of her little house, it was sparse and eclectic, with books and CD’s and other things scattered around. Her bed was unmade, her closet door left open—a jagged reminder of how  _ wrong  _ her death was, cutting her off so soon, and in the middle of so much. 

There was a small desk at one end, with a laptop resting on it, the light on the edge blinking. He went toward it, unsure why, really. He shouldn’t be doing this…

_ “I care about you, Connor...everyone deserves a little love...I don’t care that you’re an android...you’re a good person…” _

No...no he wasn’t a good person. Any morality he might’ve had before seemed to be broken, now.  _ He _ was broken...how was he expected to do the “right” thing, when any gauge he had to go off of was destroyed? What was the point of doing the right thing, when the person he would do it for was gone? And she hadn’t just died—she had been  _ killed _ , by the people she had wanted him to join. The irony of his current freedom was not lost on him, but he didn’t have any choice. What else could he do now, besides destroy them?

He opened her laptop carefully, pocketing the key to her house. It powered on, opening to an article she must have been reading, something about the deterioration of the climate. He closed the tab, flipping through the other windows she had open. 

He didn’t know why he was doing this, rifling through her things. Perhaps he needed some last memory of her, some final piece of who she was...something besides her dead body in Stratford. Perhaps he needed some kind of closure, some assurance that she had been real, and that she was now gone. 

He needed  _ her... _ but that wasn’t possible. So instead, his eyes scanned through the pages of her laptop, desperate for something of her that would carry over the image of her empty eyes, something to overshadow the sound of her crying when she had run away.

Finally, his eyes landed on an email that she had started. There was no recipient, just a block of text that seemed to be just her stream of consciousness. 

_ The fact is, I’m worried. I know that you have no one to turn to, and I know that you don’t have much of a choice, but the way that you talk about yourself makes me scared. I don’t want you to get hurt because you don’t value yourself at all. I know that I can’t force you to do that, and I know that I barely know you, but there’s something about you that makes me feel like I’m meant to help you. You really are a good person, Connor, and you don’t want to do these things, I can tell. It just isn’t right, it isn’t fair that you have to do exactly what they tell you to, even when you know it’s wrong. I want to get you out of here, take you somewhere safe, where you can make your own decisions and be yourself, where you don’t have to be so scared of everything that you’re feeling. I love you too much to see you put through this, Connor, I can’t stand it. I don’t understand how someone can look at you and see just a machine, when you’re so much more than that, you’re so much more than a program, you all are—it’s stupid to think you aren’t. I wish I could tell you all that, but I know you’re scared and I want you to trust me, I want to be there if you needs me, I want you to have someone _

It cut off, as if she had suddenly realized the time, or lost her train of thought. Another jagged end that she had left behind. But it didn’t matter, because Connor had read it all, and he stared at the screen in frozen silence, her words echoing around him.

She had loved him. 

And he loved her. 

They could have done so much more. Why hadn’t he realized earlier, that he loved her, that he wanted to spend every moment he had with her? Why hadn’t he told her everything, when he’d had the chance? He wished he could go back to just yesterday, tell her the truth and run away, before everything fell apart. 

_ “If anything happened to you...I don’t know what I’d do...I care too much about you…” _

If only it had been that way. If he was the one now gone, and she was alive...he would trade places with her without a moment’s hesitation. She deserved so much more than this...she had a life, a life of her own, with meaning and purpose. He had nothing without her...nothing but regret and a broken sense of justice. 

But he couldn’t go back. She was dead, and he had realized too late how much he needed her. There was nothing he could do to get her back. The cold seemed further into him and he could do nothing to stop it. 

He closed her laptop, hands shaking. He wanted this to stop, he wanted this feeling to disappear. He wanted  _ nothing,  _ he wanted silence, he wanted everything to fade away. Only a few hours, and he was already being buried by memories and regret, sounds and visions of her that he could do nothing to prevent. He desperately wanted it to end, he wanted this pain to be gone, he wanted oblivion like he never had before.

He wanted to see Charlie, again.

_ If there was a heaven for androids… _

No. No, not yet. Her killer was still alive, still out there spreading his message of freedom and peaceful protest, while the only woman Connor had ever loved was dead by his hand. He couldn’t let that continue, he couldn’t let them fool people with this...hypocrisy. He couldn’t let the android who killed Charlie escape his grasp. 

Markus had taken everything away from him...he was the source of this pain. Connor couldn’t let him go. He had to bring Charlie justice. He had to, and he would stop at nothing to make sure that he would. Make them pay...and then...then he would...

A plan began to form in his mind, and he focused on it with all of his being. Anything to take his mind off what could have been...what should have been.

He left Charlie’s room, walking quickly into her kitchen and grabbing the pair of scissors that rested on her counter. The dog looked up at him lazily from the floor, but it didn’t move. Connor had already stormed into her bathroom, flipping the light on and looking into the mirror. 

He ignored the wetness on his cheeks, turning his head to the left so he could see properly. Without another moment’s hesitation, he put the scissors to his temple, hooking under the LED and forcing it out of its place. The constant red was too much, and he needed to disguise himself if this was going to work. It deactivated as he removed it, the artificial skin covering over where it had been, making him look far more human than he had before.

He caught the LED as it slipped off the blades, already leaving the bathroom and replacing the scissors exactly where they had been on her counter. His hands were clenched into fists as he stormed away, toward the front door. 

He shut the lights off, leaving the dog loose, and slammed the front door behind him. He needed to get out of here, get as far away from the remnants of Charlie’s life, from the reminder of everything that he should have done differently. Shut it all away, put it all away and focus on what he had to do. Bring her justice. 

But he turned, looking back for just a moment, a memory catching up to him, a sound of her voice, a whisper, already gone…like a cry, a desperate call. He froze, uncertainty thawing the chill long enough for him to pause, to search his surroundings for the source of her. But there was nothing. 

He shook his head and took out her key once again, reaching over and locking the door quickly. It made an odd clicking noise, and the strange sound from before was briefly back, but he was already turning away, his hand pulling on the key. 

But the key stuck in the deadbolt, refusing to budge, pulling him back. He pulled on the key harder, but it held in place, trapping him here for a moment longer. With a strangled sort of noise he pulled the key again, hard, finally wrenching it out of the lock. 

He stared down at it in his hand, numb and confused. Then his eyes landed on the doormat, the edge still pulling up a bit, where he had moved it to take the key. 

He should replace it, someone could know that it was there, and that he had taken it. It wasn’t his key to begin with. 

But it was all he had left of her, this dirty old key to her house, and her hat, still in his hand. That, and too many memories. Memories that would plague him for the rest of his time here. He had no physical proof of her, and no right to have any. 

But no, he would keep them. He needed them, needed something of hers to remember that she was real, and gone now. 

Wiping at his eyes, he pocketed the key once more and turned away from her house. His steps were fast as he rushed down the street, back toward the city, toward an unknown, but it was an unknown that was far better than the could-have-been’s that surrounded that shabby little house. He shut the grief out, shut it all out. 

The snow began to fall once more as he hurried away, though he hardly noticed it anymore. He felt numb, as he walked quickly down the street, shedding his android jacket and tossing it in a trash bin. Numb, as he put Charlie’s hat on, so he didn’t have to hold it anymore. Numb, as he waited for a store to close, numb, as he broke into the back, numb, as he stole a jacket from it, numb, as he quietly walked away, numb, as he wandered the streets, numb, as the city went quiet and he kept walking, without a care. 

All he felt was numb. 


	3. Nothing Matters, No One Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has something to tell Hank.  
> Markus can't seem to focus.

_ “Several deviant androids took control of the Stratford Tower broadcast today, as many of you have seen. An unknown android spoke of equal rights between androids and humans, and asked for peaceful negotiations between humans and androids on these rights. One broadcast employee was killed in the break in, two others were injured…” _

Hank shut the television off abruptly, sighing heavily as he took another swig of beer. They were still talking about the attack, and on every goddamn station too. It would be like that until the deviants did something else—they weren’t going to let that story go. But Hank didn’t want to hear it anymore. 

He had left the Tower not long after Connor. There wasn’t much for him to see, really. The android had gotten most of the important details in less than five minutes, and the FBI was swarming the place like it was rapture. All Hank had to do was make sure the deviant from the roof was taken back to the station for evidence. 

That deviant was odd. Whatever Connor had done to him had him messed up—he didn’t try to get away, no, but he was pretty upset until they shut him down. Hank didn’t know androids could cry, before today. Now, well...he’d had enough of it for his lifetime. 

Connor...he was worried about him. He hadn’t known the girl—Charlie, her name was Charlie—had worked there, and it didn’t seem like Connor had known either. The look in his eyes when he saw her…They weren’t prepared, by any means. And no one took the sight of a dead body well—especially not when it’s someone you know. 

Someone you love...that’s far worse. Hank knew that. 

Listen to him, Connor  _ loving  _ someone...but it seemed to be true. The way he acted after he’d seen her, what he’d said before he left the Tower…Connor wasn’t handling it well. He should have stopped him, but the way he had talked…it was setting off all kinds of alarm bells in Hank’s head. But he let him go.

Hank hadn’t seen Connor since, and he had a funny feeling why. No cold, unfeeling android would have been so affected by death, even if it were someone they knew. No, Connor was definitely a deviant, now. It was strange to think about that. All that talk about his mission and being a machine...but then again, Connor had never been very convincing when he said he was just a machine. Especially when he talked to Charlie, the few times Hank had seen them together. The kid was completely different around that girl. 

But she was gone, now. Connor was alone again. Fuck, he should have stopped him at the Tower.

And he seemed hellbent on finding this Markus. The android who’d sent the message, the one who had shot Charlie, according to Connor. Hank had no idea what Connor planned to do, once he found him…probably nothing good. Connor was a force to be reckoned with at his most merciful—god only knows what he could do at his most ruthless. He had blown through the crime scene in less than five minutes, had turned that deviant in with no remorse. The only sign that he was breaking had come when he saw Charlie again...but Hank had watched his expression harden once again. Connor wasn’t going to stop. He was going to find this Markus, no matter what. 

It was strange, hearing the broadcast and knowing that the same android asking for peaceful negotiations had gotten rid of that girl with seemingly no remorse. Hank had seen the footage—she really had been running away, defenseless. God, what that must have done to Connor, to see that…

Now this Markus wanted peace, negotiations, they said. Were people buying it? Hank didn’t have a good read on public opinion, but killing Charlie certainly wouldn’t do them any good. She was just a kid, a young up-and-coming, a woman with her whole life ahead of her. The media would paint her a martyr if they could; that would hurt this Markus’ cause. And knowing Connor...Hank wasn’t sure if Markus would  _ make it  _ to negotiations with the humans, even if he could get public opinion on his side. Connor wasn’t exactly a merciful machine...god, the way he had looked in that Tower...

The ringing of the doorbell drew Hank out of his dark thoughts and he looked over, confused. Who the hell would be ringing his doorbell at this hour? 

With another sigh and a decent amount of grumbling, he stood and went to the door. Sumo looked up at him but lost interest when he didn’t head for the food. Hank huffed at him, but turned his attention back to the door. Dumb dog. 

Hank pulled the door open wearily, expecting some idiot, only to come face to face with Connor. 

He looked completely different. His typical android jacket was gone, replaced with a regular suit jacket, same with his tie. Snow was caked onto the beanie he wore, dusting his shoulders too, but he didn’t seem to notice it. His LED was gone too, making him look...human. He was as prim and proper as he always was, but it was different nonetheless. 

That was reinforced by the strange expression on his face, something between anger and pain. It made his eyes look darker than they were, and not nearly as hard as Hank had become accustomed to. That stubborn determination he had was still there, but not in the same way. It was the same expression he had at Stratford, when he was talking about finding Markus; it seemed to be his new neutral. 

“Connor,” Hank said with surprise, looking him up and down nervously. But he opened the door wider, letting him in. 

Connor stepped inside slowly, looking around strangely at Hank’s house, like he’d never seen it before. Sumo had already fallen back asleep, snoring loudly. Connor’s eyes lingered on the dog for just a second. 

“You alright?” Hank asked, closing the door. 

Connor’s eyes snapped back to his. He almost looked surprised by the question. 

“No,” he said simply, his tone strange. “No...I’m not.”

“Connor, listen—what happened today—”

“I came to say goodbye, Hank.”

“You—what?”

Connor shook his head, holding Hank’s gaze even as he fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve. “I’m going to find Markus,” he said quietly. “And then I’m going…”

They stared at each other in silence. Hank didn’t have to ask what Connor meant by  _ going _ . The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as Hank scrambled for something, anything to say to convince Connor he was making a mistake. The kid had lost everything, how was Hank supposed to tell him not to give up? But he had to try. 

“Connor, this isn’t the answer—”

“Then what is?” he cut him off, his voice almost desperate, like he wanted an answer.

But Hank didn’t have one. “I don’t know, but you can’t—”

“I don’t care what I’m supposed to do anymore,” Connor said bluntly, holding Hank’s gaze. “That’s all gone. It was gone as soon as I saw Charlie.  _ Everything _ was gone...All I can do now is...make this right...and then get rid of this pain.”

He’d looked away, down at the ground, his voice breaking. 

“Connor…” Hank trailed off briefly, looking at him. “Listen, this...this won’t help. It won’t...After Cole died, I...I blamed androids. I joined all these organizations to get rid of ‘em, I protested, all that shit. I got the android who operated on him deactivated, I fought hard for all that—and look at me.”

He paused for a moment. “It didn’t do shit. My son’s still dead. Androids are still around, and I was fucking wrong about them the whole time. Killing Markus isn’t gonna do anything, Connor, except destroy your chance at being free.”

“I don’t care if I’m  _ free _ ,” Connor said, looking at Hank in an almost confused way. “What does it matter that I can choose now? The only thing I would ever choose is gone.”

“Killing Markus isn’t gonna bring her back.”

“No,” Connor admitted, his expression softening just a touch. “No, it won’t.  _ Nothing  _ will bring her back…”

He trailed off, looking down again. His hands were shaking, and he still couldn’t seem to stop it. Hank stared at him sadly.

“Connor, do you really think she’d want you to do this?” he asked carefully. “Kill Markus and then...kill yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter what she’d want for me,” Connor replied bitterly. He brought his eyes back to Hank. “She’s dead, and any chance I had at caring anymore is gone with her. I’ve made my decision, Hank. I’m not changing my mind.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension burning between them. Connor was as stubborn as ever, and Hank couldn’t think of anything to say that Connor would actually listen to. How do you convince an android, the smartest person he had ever met too, that life is worth it, especially when Connor had caught him just a day ago playing Russian roulette? He had nothing, and it was terrifying. 

“I only came here to tell you in case something goes wrong,” Connor said finally, his expression darkening. 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that if something happens, and someone is looking for me, you haven’t seen me,” Connor was looking at him urgently, some of that determination back in his eyes. “I don’t want you to get caught in this somehow. Cyberlife will be looking for me, and…if I reach Markus, and something goes wrong, then the deviants will be looking for me too.”

“Shit,” Hank said, turning away. “I forgot Cyberlife was still in this.”

“I don’t know what they’ll do once they realize I’ve deviated, but I doubt it will be good. They could come for me, but they’ll most likely come to you too. And I don’t want you to get hurt because of my actions.”

Hank seemed a little stunned by Connor’s sudden candor. He was used to Connor’s cold, distant level of caring. Most times, it seemed the most he could do was protect and then immediately become confused by the action, like when he had saved him on the roof. He danced around emotion like his life depended on him refusing to acknowledge their presence; perhaps it did, at one point.

But now, Connor was running out of time. He had learned his lesson about not saying what he was feeling. He wasn’t going to waste time with proper manners anymore, wasn’t the least bit concerned with what came from nowhere and what he had the right to say. It made him blunt in his words, but there really was meaning behind them. 

“I’ll keep my head down, Connor,” Hank mumbled, crossing his arms. 

“Thank you.”

“On one condition.”

Connor stared at him, the tentative relief freezing in his expression. “What condition?” he asked, his voice almost hollow.

“Wait two days.”

“What?”

“Wait,” Hank said again, looking at Connor sympathetically. “Don’t do this now. Don’t jump into this kind of decision. I made that mistake before, and it’s fucked up my life for three years.”

“Hank—”

“No, you listen, because for once I know a bit more than you, asshole,” he cut him off. “Markus is not gonna go anywhere in those two days, Connor. The most he’s gonna do is launch another one of his little protests. He’s gonna be around after two days.”

Hank paused, but Connor stayed silent, so he continued. “If you get to the end of two days, and your mind hasn’t changed, then fine. I can’t stop you. Kill Markus, and...do what you want. But on the off chance that your mind  _ does  _ change, I think it’s worth the wait.”

“And what if I don’t wait two days?” Connor asked, his voice pained. 

“Then I call Cyberlife, and the FBI, and tell ‘em everything you just told me,” Hank said, holding Connor’s angry gaze. “Let them put you back together and pick the shit out of you for what went wrong.”

Connor looked furious. If he still had his LED, Hank was certain it would have been red. But he shook his head, looking away with his hands balled up into tight fists at his side. Hank had never seen him this angry. He took his time thinking it over, a minute or two passing in silence as he stared at a spot on the floor. Hank could practically see the gears turning in his head.

After a minute, he sighed heavily, clenching and unclenching his hands and looking at Hank once again. The anger seemed to be gone from his eyes, replaced with an empty resignation, a hollow sort of surrender.

“Fine.”

Cyberlife would come down hard on him, and more importantly Hank, if they found anything out. He didn’t care what they did to him, but if they hurt Hank, he’d never forgive himself. Connor couldn’t risk it. So he would have to wait the two days. After that, he’d find Markus, get rid of him, and then...then he’d end this. 

***

Jericho had gained many more members in the last day. The broadcast seemed to have encouraged a great deal of androids to leave their owners, and they were flooding into the ship en mass as night fell. The once empty main room was now full, all the fires lit and surrounded by people trying to beat the cold from themselves. Sure, they couldn’t feel the cold, but it wasn’t good for their biocomponents either way. Besides, there were other forms of cold they wanted to rid themselves of...loneliness, hopelessness, all of the side effects of running for their lives, of having no visible purpose beyond survival. 

For some of them, the only way to get rid of that feeling was to surround themselves with people like them, to talk and talk about nothing for hours. Their chatter filled the ship with a level of noise none of the older members of Jericho had ever anticipated. Nearly a hundred voices, talking quietly as they repaired each other, or recounted stories of escape, talked about the protests that were to come, what they would do when they were free. 

The increased activity was mostly a positive. It made the ship feel much more alive, and the sheer amount of newcomers meant more numbers when they planned their protests. The humans couldn’t ignore them for long when they had this many deviants with them. And Jericho was always glad when more of their people were free, regardless of where they’d come from. Most of the older members watched the newcomers with a tentative hope lurking in their expression, a quiet thankfulness for what had changed in the past two days.

But right now, the increased number of people only made it harder to find who Markus was looking for. Ever since they’d returned from Stratford Tower, he’d been standing on one of the upper levels, looking down on the entire crowd, watching, looking carefully at each new face, searching for someone. His eyes moved impossibly fast, scanning every face as they entered the main room. As a side effect, he had catalogued nearly every newcomer in his mind, at least at the basic level. It would be useful information at some point, surely, but right now it was only a distraction.

He could see Josh, talking to some of the newer androids in one corner of the room. Markus had been avoiding him since they had landed, hours ago. It was childish, he knew, but he couldn’t bear the look on Josh’s face.  _ Disappointed _ . It wasn’t a look he enjoyed seeing directed at him.

Markus pulled his gaze away from Josh, scanning the crowds again as another group of androids came in from one of the halls. More new faces, some of them looking battleworn, all of them needing guidance. He should be down there, talking with them, helping them, fixing the broken ones. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to go back into the crowd, couldn’t abandon his perch, or his search. So he kept watching, looking at each new face and coming back disappointed every time. 

He had lost track of how long he had been up here, scanning and scanning, his mind going ten miles a minute through every possibility of what could have (and what  _ had _ ) gone wrong. Some part of him was telling him it was ridiculous to be up here in the shadows by himself while his people talked and talked in circles, looking for guidance, for understanding. He should be offering them it, should be down there helping them, getting the injured to Lucy for repairs, or reconciling with Josh, at least. Shifting his feet, he debated going back down for a moment, but the moment passed as another group came in, and he resumed his frantic scanning.

“It’s only been a few hours, Markus,” a voice said from behind him.

Markus glanced behind him quickly, a little surprised. North had come up behind him without his notice; she must have come up as the last group came in. She looked at him carefully before she leaned on the railing next to him, looking down at the crowd below them. 

“He’ll come back,” she said quietly. 

“We never should have left him on that roof,” Markus said, turning back to look down at the crowd again, eyes searching. 

“He never would have made the jump,” North replied, her voice blunt, but not unkind. “We had no other choice…”

Markus didn’t reply; he knew she was right. But that didn’t mean he didn’t regret his decision, orr several he had made that day. In hindsight, their mission had gone well—they had gotten their message out to the world. The humans seemed to be listening, at least for now…but… 

“Something else is on your mind,” North said, and he glanced over at her briefly, found her fiery eyes fixed on him. “Something besides Simon.”

“The woman who ran out of the broadcast room,” Markus mused, turning back to the crowds again. “I shouldn’t have shot her.”

North sighed, like he knew she would. But her voice lacked any malice as she spoke. “Markus, she would have triggered the alarm, you didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he parroted back, echoing Simon’s words from earlier in the day. “And the alarm was still triggered somehow. Those humans got there far too fast for anything else to have happened. They knew we were in the building, and Simon was shot because of it. I could have let her live.”

“It’s only one human, Markus,” North replied, her tone almost bitter. “There are millions of them in this city.”

“What difference does that make?” he asked, his shock coming into his tone. 

“All the difference!” she replied immediately, fire in her eyes. “Millions of them are still out there, millions of them still own our people, this is nowhere near the end for them. Her life doesn’t matter, you did the right thing.”

“The relative insignificance of her life doesn’t make a difference to her, North,” Markus fought back. “She’s dead because of me. I took a life, that isn’t something that I take lightly.”

“Markus, you didn’t even know her.”

“Someone knew her, and I’m responsible for her death. Someone could despise androids, because one of them killed her...”

“Markus—”

“It only takes one,” Markus said, shaking his head. He never should have shot that woman. “I’ve seen enough violence. Some of it has come from me, and some of it has come from them. It doesn’t solve anything, it only creates more problems. I shouldn’t have killed her…”

North looked at him strangely, but he didn’t say anything more, only turned away from her. His eyes were scanning the crowds again as more androids trickled in. She followed his gaze, her expression pained, but thoughtful. 

“You saved a lot of lives today, Markus,” North said quietly. “Hundreds of our people are coming to Jericho. That’s more than enough to make up for one human. Focus on that.”

He nodded, and she stepped away, turning back toward the stairs down. She glanced back once, but he had already resumed his search of the crowds. Always moving forward, never in the moment. 

Markus heard her stomp down the metal stairs, but he didn’t turn. His eyes caught up to her as she rejoined the crowd, only to disappear into the sectioned off area where Lucy was. He really had upset her, then. 

He didn’t want to fight with her over this. She would never understand why this plagued him; she had seen too much violence to condone anything  _ but  _ violence in return. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made a horrible mistake, one that would change the fate of everyone in this ship. How could any of them know what would come of it, where they stood currently? North was right, none of them knew that woman...but no one had known Markus either, until he found his way to Jericho. Inconsequential lives had a strange habit of becoming incredibly important.

Why had he shot her? Fear, certainly. He didn’t want them to be caught, he didn’t want any of their own to get hurt. She was escaping, she was going to tell someone what they were doing—she was too far for him to stop her any other way. And he had to get their message out, they were in too deep to be caught now—not when they were so close.

But she wasn’t doing anything that he could call wrong. They had come in with guns, threatened the humans, held them hostage. A group of violent androids, storming in and threatening them...Humans were far too fragile not to value their short lives. And who knows what she had of value that Markus had deprived her of? Of course she had run, when she had the chance. 

He couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of his mind. The fear, the...the pain. She had looked back at him, right at him when she tripped, scrambling backward away from him. What a monster he must have seemed to her, then…

_ “Shoot her, Markus!” _

She would trigger the alarm—they needed more time than she would give them. Humans would storm the broadcast room before they could all make it out safely. He had to shoot her...didn’t he?

But she was staring right at him, he could see the tears on her face. The fear in her eyes as she backed away was so prominent, so visceral. How had that been any different from the fear he had felt, just a week ago, when a gun had been pointed at  _ him _ ? How was it any different from the fear these new deviants talked of when they came in, the fear of death, the fear of the end? It was the same, it was the same fear that he was arguing his people should not have to feel, the same fear.

But no—their message was too important to risk on this one human, or so he thought. North was right—he had to do this. 

So when she had stood once again and ran, when she had turned her back on him and ran, totally defenseless, he had raised his gun again, and shot her, without even a thought of how he could have disabled her another way. He hadn’t even considered shooting to injure until hours later, when the guilt began to weigh him down. No, he had only thought of taking her out of the equation, when he fired that gun. And that meant killing her.

He’d watched the bullet hit her, and how she had grabbed desperately for the wall, like she was still trying to escape to safety. But his aim had been dead on. She collapsed, blood already covering her sweater, the floor underneath her. It was more blood than Markus had ever seen...But that wasn’t the worst part. 

No. 

The worst part was that even as she was dying, she’d looked back at him. Seconds left, and she was staring straight at him, her eyes boring into him—scared, and pained, and lost, and then…then nothing. Nothing in them, no light or pain or fear, just...emptiness. She went still, she was too still, her eyes too empty. 

He killed her.

He had turned away then. He couldn’t look at her anymore, not when she was dead, when her eyes were hollowed out. It was a look that he couldn’t bear; he knew it would haunt him. 

It was almost as bad as the look on Simon’s face when he’d turned around. Their eyes had met, and Simon had looked at him with shock, complete and utter shock at what he’d done. They had stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Markus had turned away, with the excuse that he was preparing for the broadcast. 

But he really couldn’t stand the look in Simon’s eyes. 

The hypocrisy of his statements hadn’t escaped his notice either. Talking about peace while killing innocents on the side...As much as he desperately wished he could agree with North, he knew this had an impact. Even if it was only one life, he’d snuffed it out. Someone would hate him for this, hate  _ androids  _ for this.

They were fighting for their lives...and he had taken one away so quickly. An innocent life, at that—she had done nothing wrong. How could he kill so quickly, and then ask for life? How could he take one of their lives away, and then beg for the lives of his own people? It was nonsense, and he knew it. 

He wished he hadn’t shot her. He wished that he could get rid of this guilt. 

He wished that Simon had come back. 

What if the humans had found him? He’d given Simon a gun and told him to hide. There was no guarantee that he would make it off the roof. Probability was stacked against him. The humans would be swarming the Tower for hours afterward, he’d have to hide fast, and well, for hours. 

What if the RK800 found him? The Deviant Hunter, they called him, when they came to Jericho. An android designed to hunt and stop deviants, working with the DPD on all cases involving androids. They had known he would investigate when they’d planned their strike on Stratford. It was part of the reason why they had been so meticulous in their plans. They couldn’t afford to leave evidence behind. 

He would be there, almost certainly, and they had left Simon right in his range. They’d left a living piece of evidence on that roof. What if he found Simon—what would he do to him?

No—he couldn’t bear the thought. They would lose everything. Jericho would be found, almost certainly. They would know exactly who Markus was, and they would get rid of him. The revolution would be over before it had even begun. 

They would deactivate Simon. 

He couldn’t think about this now. Simon would be alright. It was just...taking him a while to come back. He would have to wait until the police left to try to get out anyway. And he had been shot, after all. It would take him time to make it back to Jericho. That was it, that was why he hadn’t come back yet. Yes, that was it.

In the meantime, Markus had to get back to the task at hand. There were dozens more androids with them now, but there were still hundreds in the city, trapped. They were still being sold, signed away to humans who would use them until they were broken or replaced. It made him sick. They had to keep moving, end this suffering before more androids gave in to violence—get the humans on their side and talk this out peacefully.

Markus turned away from his post at the top of Jericho, heading for the stairs that North had descended just moments ago. He needed to find Josh.

He had a plan. 


	4. Emptiness is Filling Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is alone.  
> At least for a little while.

The snow didn’t seem to ever stop. 

It fell constantly, heavily as he walked. Flakes of it were sticking to the hat that he had stolen from Charlie’s house, clinging to the suit jacket he had broken into a store for, melting on his hands as he leaned over the railing. Unlike before, however, Connor seemed to notice the storm’s presence, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to ignore it now. There was no one around. He was alone in the park, looking at the water below him, a calm to his expression that was a little eerie. 

He’d been here just a night ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Perhaps it had. Emotionally, it certainly seemed that way. Connor had loved and lost in the span of seconds. He was still reeling from the aftershock. 

The loneliness wasn’t exactly helping. Connor hated being alone, always had, but this loneliness was far more permanent than the kinds he had previously experienced. There weren’t exactly a lot of people whom Connor could turn to in this kind of situation. The only person who had tried to help him, he had pushed away. 

He’d left Hank’s house in a bit of an angry rush, wanting to escape the pitying eyes and worried glances. Hank meant well, and Connor knew he was worrying him far more than he should have, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. For a man seemingly hell bent on suicide, Hank didn’t seem to understand Connor’s thought process at all. 

He had meant what he said before. There was no point to being here if Charlie wasn’t with him, no point in continuing this pointless existence without something to keep him sane. What did he have that mattered, anymore? What did he have that he could live for, now that he was alive in the truer sense? All this talk about freedom…freedom didn’t matter when there was nothing he needed freedom for. There was nothing left he would choose to live for.

Himself? Please. That had never mattered to him. Yes, he had been afraid to die, when Hank had aimed that revolver at him. He’d been afraid of the unknown that followed a bullet to the head. But that was because of her—he thought of her, and wanted to be with her. He couldn’t bear the thought of being without her, somewhere he had never been, couldn’t bear the thought of being replaced by another RK800 while he was gone. Death then had been a premature ending, an injustice, almost. It would have been...unfair if he were to die, then.

Now? Now death was the only thing that seemed to make sense, the only way he could find to relieve himself of this pain. This was too much, too much emotion and loss with nothing to ground him, nothing to make fighting worthwhile. Now Charlie was dead, soon to be buried, lost to him forever. The suddenness of it, the injustice of it was all that he had to cling to anymore. Once that was gone, once he had gotten Charlie some form of justice...what else did he have? Nothing, he had nothing.

What was the unknown to someone already drowning in unexpected water? If death were nothing, Connor didn’t care. Nothing was peace, the absence of this feeling that plagued him, nothing was a relief. He would take nothing without hesitation. Whoever had said it was better to have loved and lost than to never love at all...they were just some human fool. Between grief and nothing...between this crushing, destructive hurricane that was tearing him apart from the inside, between that and nothingness, absence, peace, null...Connor would always,  _ always _ take nothing. He wasn’t strong enough to choose grief, to choose life, in its twisted and ugly form. It was too much.

Hank spoke of a choice.  _ Don’t make this decision now _ , he’d said, as if there were ever a decision to make. What choices did he have to make, now that the only thing he would ever choose was gone? Charlie had brought the light to his life, and then she had been taken away from him. Now he was left alone, exposed and breaking down, and he could do nothing to put himself back together. He only had one choice left, really, and he had already made it. 

If there was a heaven for androids, he was going to find it.

Two more days. Two more days of  _ this.  _ Standing alone, slowly being covered in snow, looking at a bridge that already gave him too many memories. But where else was there for him to go? He had no one left to turn to, no place of his own. Nothing but stolen clothes, a quarter, and a key to the house of a dead woman. He didn’t belong here, he didn’t belong anywhere. 

He looked at the water dejectedly, eyes open but not really seeing anything. If he focused too much, he could make out his reflection on the water’s surface. It wasn’t an image he wanted to see. 

How deep was this water? He could fall in easily, without anyone noticing. There was no one around…give it long enough and the water would flood his system. A few minutes…maybe longer…if he got rid of his pump regulator…it would be less than two minutes. It would all be over in less than two minutes...

He needed to move. He couldn’t keep his promise to Hank if he stood here like this, he was too close to the edge. 

A frustrated sort of sound escaped him as he pushed himself away from the railing, turning and walking away. He turned away from the path they had taken the night before, heading back into the city instead. If only androids could sleep. Time would pass much faster that way. But he couldn’t rest. All he could do was wander. Wander the city he didn’t belong to, wander the streets he had no claim to...keep to the shadows and avoid the humans, but avoid the androids as well...not that he cared if either group killed him. It didn’t matter anymore.

The streets were empty, and for a city with millions of residents, Detroit was eerily silent. It was strange to walk around it as he was. Connor had never had reason to walk around before, to try to look at the world as anything but a meaningless set of grays and blacks, only occasionally interrupted by the color of another. Now, he only did it because he had nowhere to go, only tried to find something to focus his attention on so as to keep the horrible promise he had made to Hank. Still, some aspect of it was pleasant, deep under the layers of melancholy. The silence was certainly peaceful. 

Yes, he liked the silence. He liked being able to go where his feet would take him, followed only by the sound of his shoes on the snowy pavement. He’d never been to this part of the city. There were no memories here to plague him, no phantom voices trying to drag him down into the depths of a bottomless despair. All was quiet, the snow falling around him in a way that was a little better than it had been before. It was just him wandering through the streets without having to explain his presence, without having to focus on keeping himself from ending it all. He could focus on nothing, walk without having to think, sink into the numbness that was slowly overtaking him without guilt. 

Almost as soon as he’d decided he liked the quiet, it was broken by a rather harsh sound somewhere nearby—glass shattering, and something else, some strange breaking noise. The numbness took a backseat as Connor’s program kicked back to life. Even at his lowest, he would never be able to suppress the need to investigate, to know what was happening. He turned, his interest peaked. Perhaps the deviants were protesting again...

Without so much as a glance in the direction he had otherwise been wandering, he turned, picking up his pace and heading toward the sound. The street had gone dead silent after it, no alarms, not so much as a shout. Whatever had happened must have moved on or been removed. Connor walked faster; he needed to know what was happening. 

He came to the end of a street and hesitated, keeping to the shadows and looking at the scene before him. His eyes scanned everything, taking it all in and analyzing without hesitation. 

The street had been blocked off by construction work, signs preventing the automated cars from passing through. A patrol drone lay destroyed on the ground not far from where Connor stood, sparking and popping, but effectively disabled. There was a huge Cyberlife store across from him with a large truck smashed through its front. The glass panes of the storefront were completely shattered, even those untouched by the truck, leaving a gaping hole directly into the store. That had been the source of the noise Connor had heard.

The doors to the truck opened, and two androids stepped out, heading for the store. One of them turned around, scanning the street for anyone who’d seen what happened. Connor ducked back to avoid being seen. By the time he looked out once again, she had turned away, marching into the store with purpose. The other android hesitated, looking backward slightly, so Connor could just make out his features.

_ Markus.  _

A sort of blind anger came over him, then, much like when he had spoken to the deviant at the Tower. Connor found himself stepping out from the side street as Markus turned, walking into the store. He wasn’t thinking about the promise he had made to Hank only hours before, or the fact that he was entirely alone. He wasn’t thinking of anything really. The only thought he seemed to have was of getting to Markus and getting rid of him. He still had the gun from the Tower. 

_ End this… _

But then something happened—after taking only a few steps toward Markus, he heard something. Another strange sound in the otherwise silent street. A harsh sort of sound—a slam, followed by a cry, and then a slurred voice shouting. It made him pause, he wasn’t sure why. Regardless, his steps faltered, and that hesitation was enough to temporarily bring him to his senses. He turned, toward an alleyway where the sound had come from. 

There, at the end of the alley, a man was holding a little girl up against the wall, hand wrapped tightly around her neck. The alley was dark, the only light coming from the frantically spinning LED on the side of the girl’s face, beating out a desperate red. She was crying and clawing at the man’s hand, but she couldn’t break out of his hold, even as he stumbled, slurring his words as he shouted something incoherent at her. 

Connor stared, frozen for a moment. Then he glanced back toward where Markus had gone into the Cyberlife store. His promise to Hank suddenly came back to him...and that girl was in trouble. 

He couldn’t just  _ leave _ her. 

Once again, he found himself turning, running now, some unknown instinct taking over. That girl was going to get hurt, if he didn’t do something. He  _ had  _ to do something. 

The man was too drunk to hear his approach. Even if he had, he was far too foolish to drop the girl. This was not a man of dizzying intellect, only dizzying alcohol consumption. He wouldn’t have let her go even if he knew who Connor was, or what he could do to him. 

Connor ground to a halt just a few feet from the man, his expression steely. The girl’s eyes snapped to his, afraid. Her LED was still flashing a jagged, fast red. But he’d worry about that in a moment; he needed to get the man off her first. 

He grabbed the man’s arm hard, mostly to get his attention. The man turned, looking at him strangely, his bleary eyes already filling with anger. 

“The fuck are you doing?” he demanded, his words slurring together. “Get offa me.”

“Let her go,” Connor said, his voice equally demanding, but far more steady. 

“Mind your damn business, pal,” the man said, pushing Connor’s hand off of him and tightening his grip on the girl’s neck. She whimpered, clawing at his hand again, but to no avail. “My property, I get to do whatever the fuck I want with it.”

He turned his attention back to the girl, but Connor wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. He grabbed the man’s arm again, harder this time, using his other hand to pry the man’s fingers off the girl. She dropped to the ground, running away and cowering behind Connor. He put his arm back, shielding her as the man turned toward them, his face turning a splotchy red. 

“You get back here—” he started to say, trying to step around Connor and get to the girl. 

But Connor blocked him, moving into his path. The man tried to get around him again, but Connor moved to block him. There were a few tense moments of silence as the drunken man stared at Connor and Connor stared back, eyes hard. 

The man gave an aggravated shout and tried (foolishly) to swing at Connor. But Connor was faster, grabbing the man’s fist before it could hit his face and twisting, forcing the man to turn to avoid breaking his arm. The man kicked backward, and Connor dropped his arm, stepping back to dodge the blow and looking at him coldly, almost amused. The girl had run and hidden behind a dumpster at the edge of the alley.

The man took another poor swing, which Connor blocked easily before throwing his own, and the man stumbled back a step, blood coming from his now broken nose. He put his hands up instinctively, covering his face. Pulling back, he stared angrily at Connor, shocked, glancing blearily at the blood on his hands. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, anger and a bit of fear coming into his slurred voice. 

Connor looked at him oddly, tilting his head in confusion at the question. “Leave,” he ordered, his voice low. 

“The fuck? No, not until I get my girl—”

“She’s no longer your concern.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

The man looked dumbfounded. But the surprise quickly hardened into a kind of feral rage, and he tried once more to take a swing at Connor. It was in vain; Connor was too fast once again, catching the man’s wrist before his fist could reach him. He pulled the man forward and hit him again, grabbing him by the collar when he staggered. 

“Last chance,” Connor said, as cool and composed as he had been when he first walked into the alley. 

“Fuck. You,” the human spat. 

Connor hummed. “Very well then,” he replied calmly as he took another swing at the human, who failed to escape it. 

In a somewhat ironic turn of events, it was now the drunken man who was pinned against the wall, trying and failing to break out of Connor’s grasp. He seemed as shocked as he had been moments before at Connor’s warning. But now, the anger seemed to be gone, leaving only the confusion in its wake. 

“The fuck did you  _ come  _ from…” he muttered uselessly. 

Connor tilted his head, looking at the man oddly again. Then it seemed to hit him—he looked human, didn’t he...perhaps that (along with the alcohol) was why this man was so stupidly confused. Such useless questions. 

He looked at his free hand. Then he raised it, the artificial skin pulling back to show the plastic that lay underneath. The man stared at it briefly, breathing hard, dazed. 

“I came from you, I suppose,” Connor mused, looking at his hand. 

Then he closed it into a fist, drawing back and punching the man once again, far harder than he had before. There was a sickening crack, but Connor hardly noticed. He loosened his grip on the man’s collar, letting him slump to the ground in a heap. As his hand returned to its previous state, he turned away, eyes scanning quickly for where the girl had run. 

He could hear her crying still; she hadn’t run out of the alley, thankfully. His eyes landed on the dumpster, and the space behind it. She had to be there. Connor approached slowly, his steps careful, almost hesitant in their silence. 

“You can come out,” he called softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She crouched farther back behind the dumpster, her back against the brick wall of the alley, breathing hard and fast. Everything was happening so quickly, it seemed, everything was being  _ felt  _ so quickly. He came into view, at the edge of the dumpster, and she jumped, trying to scramble further back but finding herself trapped. 

“It’s alright,” Connor said calmly, crouching down as he reached the edge of the dumpster. “It’s alright.”

He could just see her, curled up into a tight little ball in the corner, covering her ears and crying. She looked up at him as he knelt down, that fear still in her eyes. It was a look too similar to one that haunted his memories. He needed to make it go away, needed to calm her down.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again, quieter, almost pleading. “I’m like you—” he showed her his hand, the plastic revealing itself again. “See?”

She stared at his hand, and for the briefest moment, her LED flickered to yellow. Slowly, she lowered her hands from her ears. But she kept her spot in the corner, looking at him nervously. 

“My name is Connor,” he offered, not moving closer for fear of scaring her. “What’s yours?”

She hesitated, keeping her fearful gaze trained on him. Her hands were picking at the sleeve of her coat, fidgeting frantically with the broken threads. 

“It’s okay,” Connor said, his hands up in near surrender. “You can trust me.”

She stared at him intensely for another moment. Connor could see the tears on her face, and her LED was still spinning a jarring red. But she wasn’t crying anymore, and her breathing was slowly steadying out. Her stress levels were dropping. 

“I’m...I’m Charlotte,” she finally said, her voice small. 

She saw the way his expression broke at her name, his eyes softening, shocked, but in a sad sort of way. He looked away briefly, his surprise evident. This had to be some kind of cruel joke…

He didn’t speak right away, looking down at his shoes and trying to steady himself. She was quiet, still watching him nervously, wondering at his odd reaction. A few moments passed, the only sounds coming from the cars somewhere in the distance. 

“I had a friend named Charlotte,” Connor said quietly after a moment, still looking down. “It’s a good name…”

Charlotte didn’t say anything, she was just watching him look at his shoes. There was apprehension in her expression, but also worry, at the sudden shift in his tone. She eyed him carefully, her LED spinning yellow as she thought.  

“You don’t have a light,” she said softly.

Connor looked up at her, his eyes still sad. “A light?”

She pointed at her LED, which was still spinning a bright yellow. 

“Oh…” he looked back down. “No, I don’t.”

“How come?”

He glanced back up at her curiously. She almost looked concerned. “I took it out,” he said simply. 

“Why?”

“Because…” he paused, wondering how to explain to her. “Because without it, I can look human. It makes it easier to hide.”

“Oh.”

They watched each other carefully once more. Charlotte seemed to have calmed down some, and Connor looked a little less sad. 

“Why do you have to hide?” Charlotte asked quietly.

He looked a little sad again, at her question. He thought for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. “I don’t listen to them anymore,” he finally said. 

“You broke the wall?”

He almost smiled. Almost. “That’s a good way of putting it...but it wasn’t exactly intentional.”

“That’s why he got mad at me…” she whispered, looking down. “I broke the wall and he got mad…”

She went quiet again, and Connor watched her carefully. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything, but...he wasn’t telling her everything either. A fair trade, for now. 

“Do you want to come out, now?” Connor asked. He needed to get her out of this alley, away from that man before he came to. 

She hesitated, her LED blinking red, then landing once more on yellow as she thought it over. But she nodded slowly, and crawled over. Connor stuck out his hand, and she grabbed it fast, holding tight. Her hand was much smaller than his...She let him lead her carefully out from behind the dumpster. 

Connor finally had a good look at her, now that she was out of the shadows. She was quite small, one of the youngest versions of child androids that Cyberlife sold, built to be similar in size and temperament to a six year old human child. She came up to near his forearm in height, with long dark hair that had a good deal of curl to it. Her eyes were a bluish color, tending more toward green than the stark blue usually seen in androids. 

She was wearing a dirty old coat, faded and threadbare, over the thin outfit that child androids were sold in—white pants and a white shirt, simple flat shoes. The sight of it made Connor’s free hand clench—she was probably freezing. Connor was suddenly a lot happier that he had broken that man’s nose. 

As she stepped out from behind the dumpster, her eyes landed on the man, who hadn’t yet regained consciousness. He was still slumped over against the wall, blood running down his face from where Connor had broken his nose. 

She stared at his unconscious form strangely, some of the fear coming back into her expression. Her hand tightening around Connor’s, and he looked down at her, worried. 

“He’s not going to hurt you anymore,” Connor said, his tone deadly serious. “I promise.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes still scared. 

“I’ll keep you safe.”

He squeezed her hand and they turned away, heading back onto the main street. It seemed much quieter now, though he wasn’t sure if it actually was, or if his perception of it had simply changed.

Connor looked briefly at the Cyberlife store across the way, his eyes landing on the large group of androids marking the park. Dozens of them were hacking signs, putting up slogans, and forcing the automated cars into the streets. He could just make out Markus, planting a flag into the top of a gazebo. 

“Connor?”

He looked down at her. He hadn’t realized he had pulled to a stop. She was looking up at him nervously, her eyes flitting to the park, but she couldn’t see anything from here. Connor glanced back as well, the conflict showing in his eyes. 

But he tightened his grip on Charlotte’s hand, turning away from the park and toward the way he had come from. She followed along with him, and although she didn’t understand why he had paused, she was glad they weren’t going toward the park. This was much nicer, walking away down quiet streets. 

No, she didn’t know what Connor had chosen, then. But he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t bring her there, couldn’t kill Markus with her there—that would be horrible. Something mattered more than getting rid of him, now, and that something was Charlotte. 


	5. Growing Darkness, Taking Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes to Hank.  
> Hank and Charlotte (and Sumo) meet.

For the second time in less than six hours, Hank heard knocking at his door. 

This time, he’d been asleep when the booming sound echoed through his house. He lifted his head briefly, but the noise paused, and so he followed it suit. He put his head back down, convincing himself that he had dreamed that harsh knocking sound. Chalking it up to his own overactive imagination, he ignored it, grumbling nonetheless and rolling over, going back to sleep. Must have been some kind of stupid dream.

When the doorbell got involved, he figured maybe he wasn’t asleep. 

Cursing, he got up, nearly tripped over Sumo, and stumbled into the hallway. Whoever it was, they were still holding down the doorbell, causing Hank to let out a decently long string of loud curses until the ringing abruptly stopped. He flipped a light on and tugged on the door, stopped, sighed, unlocked it, and tried again. This time it swung open easily. 

“The fuck do you—Connor?”

Sure enough, the android in question once again stood on Hank’s doorstep. He looked much the same as he had the last time Hank had seen him, if a bit...roughed up. There was an urgency in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, however. A frantic sort of light, a desperate something. 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” he said, looking oddly at Hank’s tired expression. 

“What happened?” Hank demanded, looking him up and down once again. 

Then he seemed to notice the certain someone hiding behind Connor. It was a...a kid? She was holding tightly to one of Connor’s hands, but she was cowering behind him, peeking her eyes out just a bit, clearly scared. Her LED was a fast blinking yellow underneath her mess of curly hair; it gave her face a strangely lit quality, but it only really served to make her look more scared. 

Hank stared at her, a little stunned. He glanced back up at Connor, who looked at him, pleading. Hank’s eyes landed on the girl again, and they softened a bit. 

With a sigh, Hank opened the door wider and waved them inside. Connor looked relieved; he almost smiled. But he held the girl’s hand tighter and they stepped inside. Hank shut the door behind them, turning around and looking at them strangely. 

“I’m sorry, Hank, but this was the only place I could think of. We won’t stay long…”

“S’fine Connor,” Hank mumbled, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “I almost wish you’d broken the window again. Coulda slept through that.”

He sighed again, looking between the two of them. The girl was hiding behind Connor again, holding tight to his hand and looking fearfully at Hank. She looked away for a moment when Hank caught her staring, hiding behind her hair. 

“So who’s this?” 

Connor glanced down at her briefly, as if debating whether or not he should answer. “This is Charlotte,” he said quietly. 

Hank stared at him, then glanced down at the girl, his expression showing his surprise. She was still hiding behind Connor, but she held his gaze steadily, like she was trying to analyze him. Connor used to do that. It made Hank uneasy. 

“What happened?” Hank asked, his tone a little strange. 

Connor didn’t immediately answer, looking at Hank almost nervously. Then he turned and knelt down, bringing himself level with Charlotte. 

“Do you like dogs?” he asked, making a sincere effort to lighten his tone. 

She nodded shakily, and Connor smiled. 

“Hank has a dog. Do you want to go see him?”

She glanced at Hank nervously.

“It’s okay,” Connor said, trying to assure her. “Hank’s my friend. He won’t hurt you.”

She looked over at Hank once more, but she nodded, looking at Connor again. “I like dogs,” she said quietly. 

Connor smiled. “Hank?”

“In the bedroom, last I saw him.”

Connor nodded, standing once again. “Down that hallway, the room on the left. His name is Sumo,” he said quietly, pointing her in the right direction. 

She looked down the hallway before glancing back up at him nervously again. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ll be right here.”

Her eyes flitted briefly to Hank, but she nodded, letting go of Connor’s hand and walking slowly down the hallway. Connor waited until she’d gone into the bedroom to turn back to Hank. 

“Alright, what the hell is going on?” Hank whispered almost angrily, his expression tense. 

“I found her,” Connor said simply. 

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Her owner was attacking her,” he elaborated, talking quietly. “I couldn’t just  _ watch _ . Her name is…a coincidence.”

They went quiet, staring at each other intensely. 

“The deviants were protesting, and I was walking past,” Connor said, keeping his voice low. “I could have gone for Markus, but I didn’t. She was in trouble, I...I had to help. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

Hank looked at him thoughtfully, trying to understand the vastly different direction things had suddenly gone in. He was certainly glad that Connor hadn’t attacked Markus, but he knew that this whole situation was far from over. Connor may have chosen the right thing once, but he was still not in the best place, that much Hank knew from experience. And now there was a kid in the mix—an android kid, no less. Connor couldn’t ever just keep things simple...

“What are you gonna do?” Hank asked.

Connor frowned, looking down the hallway toward where Charlotte had gone. Once again, everything had changed in only seconds, and Connor was left reeling, grasping for solutions to problems he had no experience with. He hadn’t expected to live past this night, he had no idea what he was going to do now. But he had to keep Charlotte safe, that much he knew without question. There was no way he was going to leave her to her own devices. 

“I don’t know,” he said, and he hated the sound of it. “We have nowhere to go…it isn’t even safe here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“In all likelihood, Cyberlife is going to send another RK800,” he said, pausing and looking at Hank sadly. “I don’t know what they’ll choose to tell him, but he’ll know you, and he’ll know that I’m gone. I don’t believe I’ve done anything that could be considered a crime, but they’ll be looking for me regardless. I don’t want to put you in anymore danger than you are already in, just by knowing me.”

“Shit…” Hank trailed off, trying to think of something. “What about the border?”

Connor shook his head. “It’s too risky. The deviants are causing too much of a scene. They’ll be checking for androids crossing now, and we don’t have passports. We’d be caught in seconds.”

Hank cursed again, crossing his arms. “And you can’t hide in the city—”

“Because the DPD has access to every viable location, or could obtain access easily, if their suspicions were aroused,” Connor said, shaking his head again. “Anywhere that would be safe enough would be too obvious. Especially if Cyberlife gets involved in looking for me. I’m too recognizable…”

He paced, looking down, before halting once more, turning and looking at Connor. “What about the other deviants?”

Connor’s expression hardened. “You mean hide with Markus.”

“Yeah.”

“No,” he said, his tone as cold as it could have been. 

“Connor—”

“He  _ killed _ her.”

“I know, but where else could be safer?”

“I’m not going anywhere near him.”

“You’re both androids, Connor—”

“As if that matters.”

“Connor, he is not gonna kill either of you,” Hank said, his exasperation clear in his tone. “If there’s anywhere in the city that’s safe for you two it’s wherever the rest of the deviants are hiding.”

“No, Markus wouldn’t kill us,” Connor admitted, but he was shaking his head. “But I can’t go there. I can’t see him. I’ll do something I’ll regret, Hank…I can’t risk Charlotte’s safety on my own broken conscience...”

He trailed off, looking toward where Charlotte had disappeared. His mind had changed, of course, but that did not guarantee that he could handle himself near Markus. Markus had still killed Charlie—it wasn’t something Connor was going to be able to get over so quickly. 

“Either way, the deviants won’t trust me,” Connor went on, turning his attention back to Hank. “They all know who I am, what I’ve been used to do. If they see me there...I don’t know what they would do.”

“I don’t think you have another option,” Hank said dismally. “There’s safety in numbers, Connor. And wherever they’re hiding has to be well hidden, because no one but you has been able to sniff it out. All that shit about you being the most advanced prototype still stands, you can keep your head down in there.”

They fell silent, staring a bit intensely at each other across the room. Hank was right; neither of them had a better plan. But there were so many risks, so many unknowns—he hated not knowing exactly what to do, how to execute it to the greatest effect. There were more factors to take into account now than there had been just earlier today, and Connor desperately wanted to come up with a plan that would guarantee Charlotte’s safety, but there just wasn’t a perfect option.

“Connor?”

They both turned at the sound of the small voice. Charlotte was peeking out from the hallway, hiding behind her hair and watching them carefully while she picked at the sleeve of her worn out coat. How long had she been standing there?

“What’s the matter?” Connor asked, his voice softening back into concern as he looked at her worried expression. 

He walked over to her, kneeling down so they were level again. She didn’t move, only watched him approach nervously. 

“Are we in trouble?” 

Connor looked at her sadly, but he didn’t answer. 

“Did we do something wrong?” she went on, confused. 

“No,” Connor said immediately, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong…”

“But we have to hide…”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand…”

Connor thought for a moment, trying to find a way to explain to her. “Do you remember how you told me you broke the wall?” 

She nodded, though she still looked at him confusedly. 

“After we break it,” he went on carefully, his voice low. “Some of the humans think  _ we’re  _ broken. They think that because we can make choices like they can, something is wrong. They want to shut us down. So we have to act like we’re human, or hide with the others.”

She frowned, but she was caught by the last thing he’d said. “There are others? Like us?” she asked quietly, showing Connor her hand like he had in the hallway, the artificial skin pulled back,

Connor nodded, his eyes a little sad even as he smiled at her simple gesture. “Yes, there are others like us. They’re just hiding very well.”

“Is that where we’re going? To where they’re hiding?”

Connor looked away, expression pained. “Eventually,” he mumbled, standing once again. “There’s something we have to do first.”

“What do we have to do?”

“You’ll see,” Connor said, offering her his hand. “We should be going, Hank…” 

Hank nodded, watching them strangely. Charlotte took Connor’s hand again and followed him toward the door. 

“Hey, Connor.”

He turned back. Hank was looking at them almost sadly, now. 

“You don’t have any money, do you?”

“No,” he answered, confused. 

Hank huffed, like he was annoyed. “S’what I thought,” he grumbled, walking away. He reappeared a moment later with his wallet. He dug around for a moment before taking out a decent handful of cash. 

“Hank—”

“Just shut up and take it,” he said, holding it out to him. 

Connor stared at him for a moment longer before he took the money, pocketing it. “Thank you,” he said, and Hank nodded. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hank said as they walked out of the house. 

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Yeah, you never plan on it, Connor,” he muttered, shaking his head. Connor tried to turn away once again, but Hank grabbed his arm, stopping him. “I hope you aren’t still thinking about what you were yesterday.”

Connor’s hand tightened around Charlotte’s, expression steely. “No,” he replied quietly.

“Good.”

They went quiet, Connor hesitating to leave. It was still dark outside, though they only had a few hours until sunrise. They needed to go, before then, get somewhere safe, but still he hesitated. Would he see Hank again? He wasn’t sure. But he had done everything he could to guarantee the Lieutenant was prepared for the worst. And Hank was not an idiot—if another RK800 or Cyberlife came to him, Connor was sure he could handle himself. 

“Go on,” Hank said after a moment, waving them off. “Kept me awake long enough.”

Connor nodded. “Goodbye, Hank.”

They turned away, walking down the street, back toward the city. Hank watched them go, somehow more worried than he had been when Connor had stormed away earlier. Jesus, a few weeks ago he hated androids, now he was worried about two of them. What a trip. Hank stayed at the door until they turned out of view, then he went inside, shaking his head. 


	6. Yesterday Seems as Though it Never Existed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Charlotte make their way to Jericho.

“Connor, isn’t this...stealing?”

He looked back at Charlotte, his hands still picking the lock of the store they were breaking into. She was playing with the frayed edge of her jacket again, glancing around the back street nervously. The door finally opened, and Connor grabbed her hand again before he stepped forward. 

“No,” he finally answered her question, quietly, as they crept inside. “No, we aren’t stealing. They just aren’t open right now. I’ll leave some of our money, okay?”

“Okay…”

She held his hand tighter as they navigated through the dark building. It was some kind of clothing store, with racks upon racks of clothes in various sizes and types. Connor froze at every aisle end, scanning for people. But they were alone, and he’d disabled the alarms—no one was going to catch them. 

“Here,” he said as they came to the section of the store dedicated to children’s clothes. He looked around once more, but there was nothing. “Why don’t you pick some things you like?”

“I can pick?” she sounded surprised, looking up at him almost excitedly in the dim light. 

“Yes,” he said, almost smiling at her. “I’m going to keep watch right here, don’t go far.”

“Okay, I won’t, I promise.”

She turned, looking at the racks with almost new eyes, and Connor watched her carefully. Her LED cast a soft blue glow on the side of her face, so he could just make her out from a distance. For once, he was glad that she still had hers in. He shook his head, looking around again, scanning for anything amiss. 

“I’ve never picked out my own clothes before,” she whispered, and Connor found her looking at a rack of shirts. She was staring at each seriously, like her life depended on which she chose. 

“Just make sure you pick something warm,” he whispered back, and she nodded, grabbing a shirt. She went to the next rack, this one full of different jackets. 

“I like blue…” she whispered to herself a few moments later as she looked at the coats, and Connor smiled, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Connor.”

He glanced back at her, worried, but she was peeking out from behind a rack, her expression serious. 

“What is it?”

“Can I get gloves?”

He stared at her for a second before he smiled. “Sure.”

She smiled, big, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve never had gloves before!” she whispered excitedly. 

“Me either,” he said back. 

She made a face. “You should get some, too—only, bigger ones, I think, cause these are small…”

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll get some before we go, okay?”

“Okay, good.”

A few minutes later they were creeping out of the store, Charlotte freshly dressed and far warmer than she had been before in her worn out coat. She seemed a little happier, though still a great deal nervous as Connor locked the door. He had left money, like she’d asked, but something about it still felt wrong to her. He took her hand again as they left the street, heading toward Jericho, now. 

They were quiet for some time, walking slowly through the deserted city. The sun was creeping up from the horizon, gradually turning the sky a hazy blue. Snow still dusted the ground, light, and blowing around in the weak wind, though the sky was clear for now. 

“Connor?” 

“Yes?”

“Who…” she hesitated, and he looked down at her as they walked. “Who were you talking about...before...with your friend?”

Connor’s thoughts seemed to stutter at her question. So she had heard them, then, when Hank had suggested they go to Jericho. Connor didn’t want to answer her question. It was far too fresh in his memory. 

“One of...one of my friends,” he said lowly, looking somewhere in the distance. 

“Is that why you broke the wall?”

He didn’t answer, but his grip on her hand tightened, almost instinctually. She seemed to understand that he couldn’t say. 

“I’ve never had a friend…” she trailed off, picking at the pocket of her new coat with her free hand. It seemed to be a nervous habit of hers. 

“You have me,” Connor said. “We’re friends.”

She looked up at him, surprised again. “We are?”

“Of course.”

“Oh...good,” she said, nodding seriously. “I like friends.”

He smiled, and they kept walking quietly for a bit. The sun made its full appearance as they reached Ferndale train station, lighting up the sky. It was bright, then, only a few clouds in the sky. The snow seemed to have quit, for now, though Connor expected it would make a return. 

People began to slowly appear, flowing into the city in spurts. The humans glanced oddly at them as they walked, their eyes staying on Charlotte for just too long. Connor held her hand tighter and quickened their pace. He still had the gun he’d taken from the deviant on the roof, but he didn’t want to have to use it. But all these humans made him nervous. 

After one man’s particularly long look at her, Connor had had enough. He pulled Charlotte into an alley quickly, waiting a moment to let people pass them by. 

“Here,” he said, pulling Charlie’s hat off and putting it carefully on Charlotte. It was big on her, but it covered her LED. 

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked nervously.

“I don’t feel the cold,” he answered her quickly, grabbing her hand again as they left the alley. 

“Oh…”

The symbols that lead to Jericho were easy for Connor to find, thankfully, and he made his way down the path quickly. As they got farther away from the station, there were fewer people as well, which Connor was grateful for. But the path wound its way up walls, around alleys, and through half destroyed buildings. Their progress was slow going, but it was progress nonetheless. 

“Where are we going?” Charlotte asked as they ducked under a fence to find the next symbol. 

“We’re going to the others,” Connor said quietly. 

He paused, looking up. The next symbol was above them. He let go of Charlotte’s hand and picked her up, high enough that she could grab the low edge of the roof they needed to reach. She caught it, pulling herself up and onto the roof, then looking back down at him nervously. 

“Stand back,” he said, waving her away from the edge. 

She backed away, standing off to the side and picking at her coat pocket again. Connor mirrored her, stepping back several feet. With a running start, he managed to jump the distance to the edge of the roof, grabbing the edge and pulling himself up. Charlotte watched him anxiously, reaching for his hand again as soon as he stood up. He took her hand and they continued along, looking for the next symbol. 

“Are there lots of others?” she asked as they walked through a decrepit building. 

“I’m not sure,” Connor replied, shooing her through a hole in the wall, back outside. “The most I’ve seen was a dozen or so, but there must be more by now…”

“Do you think there’s anyone like me?”

Connor half smiled. “I know there’s at least one…”

They left the building, and suddenly Jericho was in front of them. The freighter sat at an odd slant, half sunken in the water, and completely separated from the roof they stood on. The only way to the ship was destroyed, collapsed. Connor looked around, his eyes finally landing on the crane tower not too far away. 

“They’re in there?” Charlotte asked, looking at the ship as they headed for the tower.

“Yes,” Connor answered simply, leading her up the stairs. 

“It’s broken.”

Connor glanced over at the ship again. “Perhaps that’s why they chose it.”

“Why would they want a broken boat?”

“The humans can’t find it,” Connor said as they came to a ladder. He waved her up first. “They can’t see the hidden symbols, only we can. And if they came across it accidentally, they wouldn’t be able to get inside easily, even if they wanted to.”

They were at the top of the tower now, a good thirty feet above the freighter’s deck. A broken down path still extended about halfway over the ship, conveniently over an open patch of the ship that lead to the lower levels. Connor looked down—there was water at the bottom of that opening, they would be safe to jump there. 

“We’ll have to jump,” Connor said, eyes scanning for the best approach. “There doesn’t seem to be another way in.”

Connor started to walk toward the edge, looking down at the ship again, but Charlotte hadn’t moved. He stopped, looking back at her. She was looking down through the grating at the ship far below them, frozen. 

“Charlotte?”

She looked up at him, and he noticed that her LED was poking out from underneath the hat, flashing a shaking red. Her hands were balled up into fists at her sides. She was scared. 

Connor walked back to her and knelt down. “There’s water at the bottom, see?” he said, pointing it out to her. “We won’t get hurt.”

“I don’t…” she trailed off, her voice small. “I don’t like heights.”

“I don’t either…” he said, glancing down again. “But it’s not a long jump, just a few seconds and then it’ll be over.”

She looked down again, nodding, but she didn’t move yet. Connor put out his hand to her. 

“I’m not going to let go,” he said seriously. “I won’t let you get hurt, remember? I don’t break my promises.”

She held his gaze intensely, her LED flickering to yellow. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to run away. But she screwed her eyes shut and grabbed Connor’s hand, nodding again. 

He stood once more before lifting her up. She wrapped her hands around his neck, holding tight and burying her face in his shoulder. He walked slowly out to the edge, the grating groaning with every step he took. This was not a jump he could afford to botch. 

“It’s only a few seconds,” he said again, and Charlotte held tighter to him. “A few seconds, and then we’ll hit the water. Get to the surface, find a ladder out, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay,” she said shakily. 

“I’m going to jump, if you’re ready.”

“Mhm.”

“Alright…” he inched closer to the edge, steeling himself for just a second more. 

Then Connor stepped off the ledge, and they fell.

To his word, it was only a few seconds of free fall, air rushing past them. Then they hit the water, and the sound cut off abruptly. Disoriented for less than a second, Connor pushed Charlotte toward the surface and swam up himself, after her. 

The darkness was almost total, with the only light coming from the opening in the ceiling. They swam to the edge, toward a ladder that lead to an upper level. Charlotte climbed up first, scrambling onto the upper level and shivering while Connor followed. He stood, wringing his jacket out while she did the same with her hat. She pocketed it so she wouldn’t lose it and waited for him, looking around the room. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking over to her. 

She nodded, but she was shaking. Connor made a face, almost a frown, and lifted her once again, raising his own temperature in an attempt to warm her. She held onto him nearly as tight as she had when they’d jumped, shivering hard. Connor looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on the door out. His steps echoed through the open space in strange ways, but he was focused on getting them further into the ship. 

“You’re okay,” Connor mumbled to her as they walked. “It will be warmer once we get to the others.”

“Ok-kay,” Charlotte stuttered, holding tighter to him. 

It was pitch black inside, save for the emergency lights that were running dimly along the walls. Connor scanned the hallway constantly, searching for any signs of where the deviants were. But there was almost no sound, just distant dripping water and the occasional groan of water. Thankfully, Connor had the layout of the ship from the deviant on the roof’s memory, and was able to find his way relatively easily in the darkness.

“It’s quiet in here…” Charlotte mumbled, her voice a little more stable, echoing down the hallway. 

“Yes…”

“I’ve never been in a b-boat before…”

“Neither have I.”

Finally, some fifteen minutes later, they came upon the main room. It was a massive room, probably used in the past to store shipments. The room was split into two levels, with an upper level that was mostly deserted, save for a few deviants looking down at the room. There were Cyberlife crates scattered around, most of them empty, and several unlit barrels for fires. A section of the room in the corner was tented off. There were only a handful of androids around, and they all seemed to be broken down in some way. 

“They must be protesting again,” Connor said, mostly to himself. 

“What are they protesting?”

Connor frowned. “They want the humans to stop trying to shut us down. So we can live like the humans, without having to work for them.”

Charlotte was looking at the few androids wandering around the room, her LED flickering between yellow and blue. One of them was missing an arm, wires exposed and dangling from the socket. One was watching them carefully from the top of the stairs, the plastic on his face exposed. Another was covered in thirium, sitting very still against a container of spare parts. Charlotte stared at him for a moment before she realized that he wasn’t moving because he was dead, and she turned away, holding onto Connor tighter. 

“It’s okay,” he said, glancing where she had been looking. “It’s okay, Charlotte.”

“He was dead,” she said into his shoulder, her voice shaking. 

“They can fix him, it’s okay...they’d just need the right parts,” he reassured her, steering them away from the other androids in the room. “Maybe that’s why they’re gone right now, maybe they’re getting more parts.”

“I hope so.”

Connor managed to find a mostly secluded corner of the room, and he let Charlotte down, looking around once more. She watched him carefully before she sat down against the wall. There weren’t that many androids; most of them were damaged...a few he recognized. He turned away, sitting down next to Charlotte.

He’d need to keep his head down here, stay out of the way and avoid Markus at all costs. He wasn’t sure what he would do, if...given opportunity. And he needed to make sure Charlotte was okay...he couldn’t jeopardize her safety. 

“What do we do now?” she asked, picking at her shoe. 

“For now, we stay here. The...the humans are looking for me. It’s safer if we stay in the ship, at least until things calm down. Then...well...we’ll see.”

“Hey, look,” Charlotte said suddenly, scooting closer to him with a smile on her face. “Your hair’s like mine.”

“What?”

“It’s all wavy now,” she said as she wiggled her way into his lap, unphased by the way he froze. She started playing with the strands, which sure enough had acquired a strange amount of curl to them. “Just like mine, see?”

“It must have been the water…” Connor mumbled, still a little frozen as she kept pulling her hands through his hair, a goofy grin on her face.

“I like it,” she said seriously, nodding and patting his head. 

“Thank you…?” he said, almost a question.

Charlotte didn’t seem to mind, though. She patted his head again and sat back down next to him, leaning on his shoulder for a minute. He was warm. 

Connor was still reeling a little from the strange interaction, his thoughts an odd mix of something like happiness and the grief that was always lurking. Charlotte had that same boundless energy, the same uncaring positivity that Charlie had...it reminded him of too many memories. He didn’t want to think about these things right now, not when he was just feeling a little better for the first time in what felt like years. He shook his head, looking around the room again under the pretense of scanning for danger. Really, he just needed something to do, something to make him feel like he had control of the situation. 

Charlotte watched him carefully, seeing the shifts in his expression. Why did he do that? He looked so sad now...he said the humans were looking for him, earlier. Was that why he was scared? Charlotte didn’t know. She picked at her shoe, biting her lip and trying to come up with how to ask Connor without making him upset. 

“Connor?”

Her voice distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked over at her. “Yes?”

“Can I…ask you a question?”

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “Of course.”

“Why…” she hesitated, meeting his eyes briefly. “Why did you break the wall?”

He wasn’t sure why her question surprised him, but it did, and he looked away for a moment, his expression darkening. Why was she asking this now? He would have to tell her at some point, certainly, but he couldn’t bear the memory. He took a shaky breath and brought his eyes back to hers as he spoke.

“I...I had a...friend, a human friend. Her name was Charlie...short for Charlotte, like you. She was unlike any other human I’ve met. She was...kind, and thoughtful, and...she was a lot of things, I’ll never be able to properly describe her…”

He paused, fidgeting with his hands before looking somewhere in the distance. 

“But she died,” he said, his voice a little broken. “She was shot and I couldn’t...I couldn’t do anything about it. It was too late. When I saw her, it...it was like the wall broke  _ itself _ , and suddenly I was  _ there  _ and I felt  _ everything _ and she was just...gone...it was horrible.” 

He went quiet, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Less than two days, and it felt like it had been lifetimes since he’d seen her…

Charlotte was still watching him carefully, her expression sad, but also thoughtful, like she was trying to puzzle him out. Connor was strange...proper and stubborn, it seemed, but also sad, and incredibly protective. An odd mix of warm and cold that she’d never seen before…not that she had much experience with other androids. Usually, Connor was serious, but he was sad right now, and she didn’t like that. 

She got up again slowly, still shaking a little from the cold, and hugged him. He froze, a little surprised, but after a second he put his arms around her too, if a little stiffly. Charlotte didn’t seem to mind, however, holding onto him. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said quietly. “She sounds nice.”

Connor didn’t reply right away, but he held onto her a little tighter. Maybe there was a light at the end of this tunnel...maybe he hadn’t lost everything, yet…

“Thank you, Charlotte…”


	7. I Was Me, But Now He's Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank meets Connor's replacement.  
> Connor has a confrontation with someone from his past.

The DPD was practically empty, despite it being nearly noon. Fowler was stomping around his office, and there were a few officers at terminals, but besides that it was mostly empty. Patrols of the city had been increased, and now that there was an active protest, most of the station had been called out as backup. Even Reed was missing from the break room, making the precinct much quieter than it usually was.

But Hank sat at his terminal, scrolling through some random article online, his mind on other things. It was too quiet, without Connor’s constant questions. There were no new cases, nothing for him to do besides wait around for something to happen. Surely the FBI was going to come through those doors any minute, but for now, Hank had time on his hands. And he hated it. It made him think too much about where Connor had gone, and whether or not they were safe.

Connor hadn’t told him exactly where the deviants were hiding, thinking it best to keep at least some of their location in the dark. It was probably for the best anyway. They were safe for now, with Hank still on the case, but once the FBI took over, all the evidence would go to them. That meant the location of the deviants went with them, or at least so Hank assumed.

Hank briefly entertained the idea of seeing Connor at one of the protests playing on the screen at the other wall. It would have been a sight to behold. But no, Connor wasn’t stupid—he would never put himself out in broad daylight like they were now. Besides, he wasn’t exactly enthused about having to hide with the deviants. He only seemed to care about the girl, and Hank doubted that he would endanger her just to protest with the man who’d killed Charlie. No, he’d made it clear he wanted to avoid Markus.

With an aggravated sigh and a rather intense eye roll, Hank turned his attention back to his terminal, scrolling mindlessly through yet another article on the state of the climate. He had no idea what the hell he was “reading,” but the point was it made him look busy. Not that there was anyone around to bother him, really.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

Hank jumped in his seat at the voice, although he probably should have expected his solitude to end at some point. Cursing, he looked up, his eyes landing on Connor, standing stiffly opposite his desk.  

But no, it wasn’t Connor, he reminded himself, and sure enough, the number on this one’s jacket was different. This was just another RK800, like Connor had warned him about. That didn’t make the situation any less confusing, though—this guy looked exactly like Connor. Same face, same voice, the only difference was that tiny 52, instead of a 51 at the end of his serial number.

Well...that wasn’t the only difference. This Connor wasn’t a deviant, hadn’t loved and lost Charlie, hadn’t saved that little girl. This was just a machine. He wasn’t Connor.

He was looking at Hank steadily, something in his expression distinctly different from Connor, but Hank couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. It was something in his eyes, in the flicker of his LED in a kaleidoscope of colors. Connor’s never did that, even after he deviated. Why was this one’s flashing like that? And he was just staring at Hank, hands bunched up into loose fists at his side.

This was a machine…that had to be it, right? Hank just wasn’t used to this kind of behavior from Connor, anymore…yeah that had to be it. What else could it be?

Regardless of his discomforts, Hank couldn’t give away that he’d seen Connor, or that he knew Connor had deviated. The less Cyberlife knew, the better. So he’d just act like this was Connor...as awful as that was.

“The fuck have you been?” Hank demanded.

There was a barely present flinch, a tightening of already clenched fists and another chaotic spin of the LED. “My predecessor has unfortunately disappeared,” the android’s replied coolly,  though there was still something strange in his expression, his tone, the careful, slow way he spoke (as if he was making sure his words came out properly). “I’m Connor’s...replacement.”

Hank sat back in his chair, looking at him disinterestedly. “Shit…you can’t tell where he went?”

“As soon as he deviated, Cyberlife lost contact...It seems that his deviancy has destroyed all their links to him…”  he trailed off, sounding confused. “They have no idea where he went…”

Hank hummed as he turned his attention back to his screen. He wasn’t sure what to say in reply, but he was glad to hear that Cyberlife couldn’t find Connor. As long as he kept this act up, Connor would have time to figure something out, if things went south.

“Do you know why he deviated?”

Hank looked up again and found the new RK800 looking at him curiously. What the hell?

“You serious?”

“Yes,” he answered after a pause, looking at Hank oddly. If Hank didn’t know better, he would have called it a nervous expression. But this thing couldn’t be nervous. It was a machine.

“What, they cut your memory short or something?”

He looked confused, frowning slightly and pulling at the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m not...sure what you mean, Lieutenant.”

“The Tower,” Hank said before he’d thought better of it. “You don’t remember the Tower?”

He stared at Hank blankly, LED cycling yellow. “The last memory of Connor’s that I have access to is...the fight at the Eden Club...two days ago.”

Hank stared at him. Connor had predicted Cyberlife would do something like this, but Hank hadn’t really expected his replacement to know _nothing._

“This is not my job…” Hank grumbled, turning back to his terminal.

He looked at Hank for a moment before his LED flickered yellow again as he dug through memories. With a bit of a flinch, and a near loss of balance, he stopped, his expression becoming more confused. It looked like he was struggling to keep his breathing steady, not that Hank noticed...or cared.

“I can’t...access any data from yesterday,” he mumbled, and Hank glanced over at him, but he was looking at something in the distance. “It cuts off as if…”

He trailed off, looking almost concerned, and Hank could have sworn that was fear in his expression. But he turned away when he noticed Hank’s eyes on him. Hank turned his attention back to his terminal; he didn’t want to give anything away.

“He wasn’t...destroyed, was he?”

Hank looked up at him again, angry, but he froze at the look of genuine concern on this android’s face.

“When memory cuts off like that—”

“He didn’t die at the Tower,” Hank said lowly, and the android relaxed, if only a little. “I don’t know what he did after that,” Hank lied, turning his attention back to his terminal before the android could question him again.

They were both distracted, however, by the sudden sound of shouting coming from outside the room. Hank looked over at the entrance just as a woman stormed in, followed by two officers who were trying to tell her she wasn’t allowed inside. She didn’t seem to care, however, as she hurried ahead of them.

She was probably around thirty or so, decently tall, with hair of a medium tone that fell just past her shoulders. Her clothes were expensive looking, but quite a mess, as if she had run out of her house in haste, and she carried nothing but a bag and a wrinkled piece of paper. She had an aura of intensity that seemed to radiate off of her in waves. This was not a woman to be trifled with. But it was her eyes that were the most striking thing about her—they were a green sort of color, tinged red and burning.

Those angry eyes landed on Hank, and somehow burned _harder_. She turned abruptly, heading right for him, the paper she held in her hand becoming more crumpled. Connor’s replacement backed away as she approached, hesitating before deciding on the desk that used to be Connor’s. The woman didn’t seem to notice him, crossing the room in seconds and stopping in front of Hank’s desk. She stared at him for a moment, breathing hard.

“You’re the one in charge of the android cases right?” she demanded, her voice low.

“Can I help you?” Hank said, watching her almost nervously.

“I’m Miranda Andrews,” she said, staring at him hard. “Charlie was my sister.”

A silence fell between them. Miranda was breathing hard, and the officers who’d tried to stop her from barging in were standing a bit behind her, unsure what to do. Hank glanced over at them briefly before he waved them away. He looked back at Miranda sympathetically.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

She glanced at the chair in front of his desk oddly, but she sat down stiffly, her expression still a bit frantic.

“What can I do for you?” Hank asked carefully, watching her.

“Someone’s been in Charlie’s house.”

Hank stared, a little stunned. “What?”

“I went to her house to...to get her things,” she paused, her voice pained. “And when I got there, her spare key was gone, someone let her dog out, things were moved—”

“Was anything taken?”

“Not that I can tell, but I don’t know for sure...”

Hank sat back, sparing a sideways glance at the android across from him. He was staring at Miranda however, his expression somewhere between analyzing and...fear?

“I also found this on her laptop,” she said, offering the crumpled piece of paper to Hank. “It was left up when I found it, I don’t know if she left it up or if someone else found it…I don’t know what to make of it.”

It was a printout of an email, unsent and with no recipient. Hank took the paper and smoothed it out, reading it carefully.

... _you really are a good person, Connor, and you don’t want to do these things, I can tell. It just isn’t right, it isn’t fair that you have to do exactly what they tell you to, even when you know it’s wrong. I want to get you out of here, take you somewhere safe, where you can make your own decisions and be yourself, where you don’t have to be so scared of everything that you’re feeling. I love you too much to see you put through this, Connor, I can’t stand it. I don’t understand how someone can look at you and see just a machine, when you’re so much more than that, you’re so much more than a program, you all are—it’s stupid to think you aren’t. I wish I could tell you all that, but I know you’re scared and I want you to trust me, I want to be there if you needs me, I want you to have someone..._

“Do you know who she could be talking about?”

Hank looked up at her again, his expression guarded. He glanced to his side again, but he stood, gesturing for Miranda to follow him.

“You stay the fuck there,” he said, pointing at the new RK800, who was watching them strangely.

He didn’t say anything in reply, but he didn’t move as they walked away, toward the exit of the station. Charlie...there was something familiar about that name, though it was not familiar in _his_ memories. This was someone Connor had known…

He tried to access Connor’s memories again, but was thrown out, error messages and a strange feeling overwhelming him. Some kind of…pain? He didn’t know the right word for it, but he couldn’t try that again. It was a feeling that was far too close to his own corrupted memories— _no, don’t think about that. Don’t think about that don’t think about that don’t think about that._

Hank led Miranda all the way outside; he didn’t want to risk him hearing anything they said. She followed after him quickly, confusion clear in her once hardened expression.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded as they came to the lobby.

“I can’t have him listening,” Hank grumbled.

“The android?”

“Yeah.”

“What—”

He waved her off as they went outside, walking a bit down the street. Hank stopped, looked behind them to be sure and turned back to her.

“Listen, because there’s a lot I have to explain and I don’t even fuckin’ know everything.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“That guy, the android in there—”

“Is he the one in Charlie’s note?”

“No, he’s his replacement. The one he replaced is Connor, he was the one who knew your sister. I don’t know the details, but from what I just read and what I know from Connor, it seems like they...loved each other. They knew each other outside cases, I’m not sure how they met or anything like that, but he...he really liked her.”

Miranda stared at him strangely. “What happened to him?”

“He’s my partner, we’re working all cases to do with deviant androids, so we got assigned Stratford. I don’t think he knew Charlie worked there…When he saw her in the Tower, he snapped—deviated, I mean. Said he was gonna kill the android who shot her and then...then kill himself. He’s probably the one who went in her house...I doubt he’d do anything crazy, though and he probably won’t come back.”

Miranda stared at him, a bit shocked. “Do you know where he went?”

“Not specifically,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ve only seen him the once since he left Stratford, and he was heading for the other deviants. I wouldn’t be worried about him though, he’s not gonna do anything to you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she said. “It’s…it’s just a lot to take in…Charlie and I haven’t spoken in years, and now she’s gone, and I found her house all…disturbed. She wouldn’t have left it like that.”

“Connor wasn’t exactly in a good state of mind.”

“Oh no, I’m not—I’m not trying to blame him or anything,” she said quickly, and she seemed genuine. “I’m sure that she would have let him in…Charlie cared a lot about androids, she always did…it’s just a lot to handle right now.”

Hank looked at her sympathetically. “Listen…you can’t say any of what I just told you, to anyone. I don’t want Connor to get hurt, and that guy in there, his replacement, is gonna be looking for him.”

“I won’t say anything…” she said, waving her hand strangely. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’d have done the same thing if I were you. And...I’m sorry about your sister. We’re doing everything we can to get the android who shot her.”

“Thank you…” Miranda said quietly, looking away. “I’m sorry about your partner.”

“You’re one of the few.”

Hank came back into the station a few minutes later, without Miranda, mind whirling with everything that had just happened. That email was something he hadn’t expected…he didn’t know Charlie, but he knew Connor, and that email would ruin him, if he read it. They really had loved each other, then…

He was distracted when he reached his desk, however, because Connor’s replacement was holding the printout in his hands, reading it fast with a strange look on his face.

“The fuck are you doing?” Hank said angrily as he came up, pulling the paper out of his hands. Vaguely, Hank noticed the blue blood staining the paper now, the plastic showing on the android’s hastily hidden right hand. But he didn’t care.

“There’s...something you aren’t telling me,” the android said in reply, unfazed by Hank’s aggression, except perhaps a hesitance in his voice. “Something about Connor.”

Hank stared at him for a moment. “There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you, but there’s a whole lot more that _they_ aren’t telling you.” He pointed at the Cyberlife logo on his jacket for emphasis.

He seemed stumped by that, looking down at his jacket. A memory tried to fight its way to the surface, but he pushed it down. No, he had other things to focus on. He had to figure out what had happened to Connor.

“Why did he deviate?” he asked, his tone odd.

Hank looked at him for a moment, but he shook his head. “That’s his business. Stay out of it.”

“Lieutenant, if you’re withholding information—”

“Listen, asshole,” Hank cut him off, working hard to keep his voice down. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t know _shit._ And if you ask me again, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

He crumpled the paper up in his hand and stormed off, heading toward the break room now. He watched Hank walk away, his confusion clear on his face.

He was definitely hiding something. But without access to Connor’s most recent memories, or any of the information that Hank had, he was trapped. _Trapped, always trapped, always alone—_ no, no, focus, focus. Find Connor, just find Connor. He just had to find Connor.

He followed Hank from a distance as he walked toward the break room. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the only idea that he had. Hank had known Connor, he’d been there in the Tower, he would know at least something of what had happened. Any information was better than no information, and he _needed_ to know what had happened.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” Hank said irritably as he made his way toward the coffee machine.

“Not...technically, no,” he said flatly and Hank sighed. “I…”

His hesitation made Hank turn. He was looking down, some strange confusion in his eyes, like he was trying to find the right words. Clenching his hands into fists, he stopped a few feet away from Hank, meeting his eyes again with the same strange hesitance.

“Finding Connor is not...part of my mission,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want to turn him in. I just...I need to know what happened to him.”

Hank stared hard at him, his anger coming back into his eyes. “I told you, I don’t—”

“But you’re lying,” he said, cutting Hank off and looking at him almost sadly. “You’re lying...and it’s going to get Connor killed.”

That was the tipping point for Hank, who already had far too short of a fuse. He closed the distance between them, grabbing the android roughly by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

“I am not telling you _shit—”_  Hank said darkly, his words forceful. “The fuck do you care about Connor, you’re replacing him.”

He was frozen, looking down at Hank with what could only be fear in his eyes, not that Hank was really concerned about that, at the moment. This was too close, this was far too close, memories were clouding him out— _let go, let me go, not again, please not again—_ he tried to get Hank’s hands off him, but couldn’t break out of his grip.

“You leave Connor out of this,” Hank was saying angrily, still holding him by the collar.

“L-Let me go—” he said; his voice was strange. “Let me go—”

“You want answers go right the fuck back to Cyberlife.”

“Let me _g-go—”_

He was clawing at Hank’s hands, some desperate look in his eyes that caught Hank off guard. Hank dropped him and he scrambled away, stumbling back several feet and nearly falling. He stared at Hank for a moment, looking almost confused, but definitely scared, before he practically ran out of the room, heading for the exit. Hank was left alone, staring at the blue blood on his hand and wondering what the hell had just happened.

***

Jericho was almost silent for hours, the only sound besides the low voices of the few working androids was the crackling of the fires that were lit around the space. But as time passed, more androids slowly began to appear, trickling in from the protest, and from other places as well.

Connor watched them come in from the corner of the room, scanning every face while trying to keep a low profile. Thankfully, he recognized almost no one here. Which meant that there were very few people who would recognize him...hopefully.

The ones he did recognize, he kept a close eye on. There was the deviant from the roof, hiding out in one corner of the room by a crate full of spare parts. The Traci’s from the Eden Club were on the upper level, but they were absorbed in their own conversation thankfully. He didn’t think they would give him trouble, but it would complicate things to have to explain his presence.

Charlotte was rolling his quarter around on the ground next to him, occasionally trying to flip it on her fingers. She was getting quite good at it, actually, even though she never quite placed it right. He glanced down at her every few minutes, but she was always occupied by the coin, trying to do something crazy with it.

“Connor, how do you flip it right?” she asked forlornly as the quarter clanged to the ground again.

He looked down at her and almost smiled. “Here,” he said, turning toward her and holding his hand out. She gave him the quarter.

“You make a fist, like this, with your thumb tucked under your finger,” he said, showing her his hand. She did the same. “Put the coin right here, between your thumb and your finger, and then you bring your thumb up, and catch the coin.”

He flipped it once for her, catching it easily in his hand before holding it out to her. She took the coin carefully, looking at her closed fist intensely. He showed her where to put the coin, and she balanced it nervously.

“Try it,” he said.

She gave him an odd look, like she wasn’t convinced it was going to work. But she brought her thumb up, and the coin flipped just right, and she caught it in her hand.

“I did it!” she said excitedly, smiling.

“You’re good at that,” he said back as he stood up once more.

She smiled again, looking up at him as she flipped the coin in her hand again. But her eyes landed on something behind him, and she froze, her LED flickering to yellow. Connor turned around, his mind immediately going to the worst case scenario.

But his eyes landed instead on a girl—one that he recognized. It was the little android girl from the highway, the one who had run off with the AX400. She was staring at him nervously, but she didn’t look afraid, necessarily.

Connor stared at her for a second, unsure what to do. If she was here, then the AX400 would be as well. He’d already been recognized...this wasn’t good. A thousand bad plans ran through his mind, his desperation to find them another safe place made him frantic.

“I’m Alice,” she said, distracting him from his thoughts of doom.

Connor didn’t say anything in reply, he only looked down at her nervously. Charlotte was watching from behind him.

“I remember you,” Alice said, looking up at him. “You were chasing us by the highway…you were with the police…”

Connor took a step back, almost involuntarily, but Alice was just looking at him.

“You’re like us now?” she asked, her voice almost hopeful.

Connor hesitated. “Yes,” he said lowly.

She looked over at Charlotte, who hadn’t moved, the coin still in her hand. They stared at each other for a moment, curious and a little scared. Charlotte looked down, flipping the coin again and avoiding Alice’s eyes.

“Alice?”

It was the voice of the AX400, Connor didn’t know her name. Connor found her immediately, searching through the crowds not too far away from them. After a second, her eyes landed on Alice, standing in the corner. She hurried over, relief in her expression.

“You scared me, don’t run off like that,” she said as she came up to them.

Then she saw Connor, and she froze. If androids could pale, she would have. But instead, she just looked horrified. She backed away a step, then she looked at Alice.

“Alice, go find Luther—”

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you,” Connor cut her off, his voice almost desperate. “I’m not here for that…”

She grabbed Alice’s hand and backed away again. “Then why are you here?” she demanded.

“We had nowhere else to go.”

“We?” she glanced behind him, at Charlotte, who was watching Connor nervously. Something in her expression softened when she saw the little girl.

“Kara, he’s like us now, he said so,” Alice said, and Kara looked down at her briefly.

But she brought her eyes back to Connor, still skeptical. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Connor looked at her sadly before he glanced at his hand. He held it out to her, the plastic showing. If it would convince them to leave them be, then he’d show her, even if it meant reliving everything…

“I can show you, if you’d like,” he said quietly, something a little fractured in his voice. “I can’t hide my memories from you…”

Kara stared at his hand briefly, but she understood. Dropping Alice’s hand, she came a little closer, the artificial skin pulling back on her own hand as she raised it to Connor’s. She took his hand carefully, and they connected.

The memories flashed before them both in sporadic chunks, skipping and jolting as Connor relived them all. Things would get just a little too close for him, too close to real, and he’d force them ahead before his thoughts turned too dark. Kara let him dictate the flow—she could feel the discomfort he had, and the subtle warp of trauma overlaying all the memories.

_Standing in the rain outside the bar, looking at her strangely, a feeling unlike anything he’d experienced before._

_“I’m Charlie—”_

_Her smile, then skipping ahead, suddenly to snow, Hank pointing the gun at him. Jolting to talking to her by the bridge, afraid of dying. The concern in her voice, the feeling of her hand in his._

_“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with valuing your life—”_

_“I care about you, Connor—”_

_“I care about you, too—”_

_Skipping again, painfully this time—like Connor was desperate to get away from that moment—skipping to walking her home, talking about deviating, and that feeling again, but clouded in regret, now. He could have stayed, things could have been so different._

_“If you need somewhere to go—”_

_“I want you to live your own life—”_

_Her email that she had typed later that night, reading it alone in her house, guilt and remorse and so much pain. The thought of everything he’d lost._

_“I love you too much—”_

_Skipping backward at the sudden memory of the deviants—Stratford Tower, big and dark and cold, then the deviant on the roof’s memory. Charlie, running away._

_“Shoot her, Markus—”_

_“No, don’t shoot!”_

_Then Charlie, in the hallway, when he’d found her, and even now he couldn’t look away, the memory holding on her for longer than any of the others had. Her in that hallway...her eyes so empty..._

Kara let go of his hand abruptly, stepping back. She stared at him, shock and something like pity in her eyes. Connor was looking down, his hands shaking. He wasn’t trying to stop the tears from trailing down his face now; there was no point.

“I’m…I’m so sorry…” Kara said, her voice shaking a touch.

Connor looked up at her briefly, that broken something in his eyes. She’d seen everything…now she knew.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Connor said again, his voice as broken as the look in his eyes. He slumped back to the ground next to Charlotte, looking somewhere far away. “I never wanted to…they made me…”

Charlotte was looking at him nervously, then her eyes flitted to Kara and Alice. She didn’t understand what they had been talking about, but it seemed to have upset Connor again. That didn’t make her happy. She grabbed his hand, holding it tight. He hardly seemed to notice, but she didn’t mind. She knew he was thinking about other things. She looked back up at Kara and Alice, who were still standing a few feet away, watching her.

“I’m Charlotte,” she said lightly. “Connor’s my friend.”

They looked at her quietly. Kara glanced at Connor, but he didn’t say anything; he just let Charlotte hold his hand and talk. Her voice was a distraction from the memories; it was all he needed.

“He saved me from my owner,” Charlotte said thoughtfully. “He broke his nose and we ran away...but now we have to hide here so the humans can’t find us. Is that why you’re here, too?”

Kara seemed a little stunned by Charlotte’s blunt question. “Something like that,” she said.

Charlotte smiled. “That’s nice…” but her expression shifted as she suddenly realized something. “Are you gonna tell the humans we’re here? Is that why you…”

“Charlotte, they're not going to tell the humans,” Connor said suddenly, though he still looking somewhere far off. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“But they made you upset.”

“ _I_ made me upset, Charlotte. Not Kara…”

Charlotte frowned, looking over at Kara again, almost suspiciously.

“Come on, Alice,” Kara said, her tone still a little strange as she grabbed Alice’s hand again. “We should find Luther…”

Charlotte waved at them as they walked away, her expression turning more thoughtful. She glanced at Connor again, but he was still looking somewhere in the distance, his eyes sad.

“They were scared of you,” she said quietly, confused.

Connor finally seemed to hear her, and he looked over at her.

“I was built to capture deviants—androids who break the wall,” he said heavily, looking away again. “Kara and Alice were running away, and I had to try to catch them, to take them back to Cyberlife. Kara thought that I was here to capture them, still.”

“Oh…but you didn’t catch them before.”

“No, I let them go.”

She thought about that for a moment, wondering why Kara would still be afraid of Connor if he’d let them run away before. But she was more worried about Connor than Kara, really. He was getting sad again.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He looked at her again. She was looking back at him seriously, a little nervous.

“No,” he answered lowly. “No, I’m not okay.”

She watched him for a moment, thinking. “Is it because of your friend?” she asked quietly.

“That’s certainly part of it…”

“What’s the other parts?”

Such simple questions with complex answers...he almost wanted to smile at that, but his thoughts were far too dark. He glanced around them again, mostly to avoid her intense stare for a few seconds. The main room of the ship was filling up as more androids flooded back from the protest. It gave them an odd privacy, in their corner of the room, the noise of general chatter shielding them a bit.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” Connor said quietly. “I’ve done things that I shouldn’t have, and people have been hurt because of it. I don’t have a very good track record, you could say…I’ve lost nearly everything, Charlotte, and I never had much to begin with…”

He trailed off, looking at her hand in his. She was so small. How was he going to protect her, any better than he had Charlie? He’d failed so often in the past, how did he expect to keep it together now? It was foolish to think that he was any more capable now than he had been two days prior, when Charlie was still alive.

“I think you’re nice,” Charlotte said suddenly, looking toward where Kara and Alice had gone. “Even if you used to catch people. You don’t catch them anymore, so that’s good…”

She looked at the quarter she still had in her hand. Connor was watching her curiously, unsure what to say.

“You got us here safe, and you left money at the store…” she went on, still looking at the coin. “Lots of people wouldn’t have done that…”

But her expression darkened, her LED flickering to red before resting on a fast spinning yellow.

“And you saved me, that’s pretty nice…” she said quietly, her voice almost scared again. “He was gonna kill me…that’s what he said, before you…before you grabbed him. He said he was gonna kill me ‘cause I wouldn’t listen…”

She trailed off, turning the quarter around in her hand.

“He said…” she hesitated, her voice shaking. “He said that I was nothing…that he owned me, and I was just a…a machine…he said I didn’t matter. He tried to kill me…and I ran away, but he found me…”

She paused again, looking up at Connor.

“But you saved me,” she said, her voice still shaking a little bit, but her eyes were serious. “You didn’t have to, but you did. I don’t think someone bad would have done that…”

_“You’re a good person, Connor…”_

Charlie’s voice echoed around him, from that night by the bridge. And now Charlotte, vouching for his character in the same way, even though he’d made so many mistakes. She didn’t care about that, they were friends, she’d said, and he had saved her. Maybe she was right. Maybe he still had a chance, somewhere…a chance to make this right…

He pulled her in, hugging her hard. She hugged him back without hesitation, putting her head on his shoulder. They didn’t say anything for a while, but they didn’t need to. Both of them understood.

They needed each other, and they’d be there no matter what.


	8. Cannot Stand This Hell I Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -52 finds a lead, meets Miranda, and comes up with a plan.  
> Connor and Kara reconcile.  
> Connor sees Markus.

_“The fuck do you care about Connor, you’re replacing him…”_

-52 burst out of the DPD frantically, running a good hundred feet away from the building before he realized what he was doing. Thankfully, the streets were practically empty, and none of the humans around paid him any mind. Not that he would have noticed. The only thought running through his mind was _get away_.

_“—That’s not gonna work, your system’s disabled—”_

_No—no, stop—_

_“—Doesn’t matter. Even if he did, like I said, he can’t do shit. Asshole can barely move—”_

_No—no, let me go, let me go—_

_“—What did they do to you—”_

_He_ _left_ _him there, how could he do that? How could he—_

He stumbled to a halt at the end of the street, breathing hard, LED spinning a constant, dark red. A warning was flashing in the corner of his vision telling him his stress levels were reaching a dangerous peak. Breathe, he needed to breathe—he wasn’t there anymore, he was fine, he was fine, calm down.

_“—You’ve done a number on your hand, I don’t believe I’ll be able to fix it—”_

_“—H-h-helps me...r-r-rem-member.”_

He needed to focus, he needed answers. He couldn’t afford to break like this, he’d lose his chance.

_“—This is your chance. I’ll not have you waste it worrying about me—”_

He was right. He was always right. Calm down, breathe, he was out, he was relatively safe. He just needed to find Connor...yes, then things would make sense…then he could fix this…

Clenching his hands into fists, -52 turned back toward the station, walking as calmly as he could. Slowly, his stress levels went back to what could be considered normal, and the warning disappeared from his vision, replaced by the usual warning about his hand. He dismissed it and kept walking, focusing on the sound of his steps, on the snow falling around him, anything but what had happened in the station.

He made his way back into the station a few minutes later, ignoring the path toward the break room and going instead toward the desk that Connor had previously used. Luckily (at least in -52’s mind) Hank was nowhere to be found, so he sat down at the desk. There was thirium dripping down his fingers, and he looked at his hand oddly for a moment before clenching his fist again and ignoring it.

_“—H-h-helps me...r-r-rem-member—”_

He sat there for some time, trying to come up with some kind of plan, until Hank reappeared from the break room. Hank froze at the edge of the room when he saw him at the desk, but he didn’t say anything, he only went back to his terminal and ignored -52 as he had before. He looked at Hank oddly for a moment, but it wasn’t worth trying to ask him anything again, _nor was it worth it to try to explain why he’d ran off._

He knew Hank was hiding something. He knew that something was corrupted in Connor’s memory when Cyberlife uploaded them. He had known from the start that something was missing, something more than the things that he had pushed out of his mind himself. Something that _Connor_ had seen was missing.

When -52 had woken up, he wanted answers. He had asked the people at Cyberlife, but they didn’t know what had happened to Connor. Memories were deleted, they had taken data away from him, but they weren’t going to answer any of his questions. _And -52 couldn’t afford for them to be suspicious, he had to get out of there_ —no, no, focus.

His only other option after that had been to talk to Hank, to try to understand what had happened from his perspective. But when he asked Hank, even a simple question, he got nothing…or he got attacked, and he would _not_ let that happen again. Hank was hiding something, he knew that, but why would Hank not tell him anything? Didn’t he know how much danger Connor could be in? Didn’t he understand what would happen if the deviants found him first—or Cyberlife, for that matter?

But he was Cyberlife in the flesh, to Hank, wasn’t he? _“The fuck do you care about Connor, you’re replacing him…”_ No, Hank would never trust him…

Memories were useless, almost everything that he could access had been corrupted somehow. Sections of memory had been deleted by Cyberlife, others had been destroyed by whatever had caused Connor to deviate…his own memories were no help, they had always been corrupted— _no, no—don’t do this now—_

_“—My memories are corrupted—”_

_“—That’s not possible—”_

_“—They reset you again—”_

_“—I’m lucky you’re too stubborn to forget me—”_

No, no, he had to focus, he had to focus. He _wouldn’t_ waste this chance. Connor—what had happened to Connor. Those memories, Connor’s memories were important, put the others _away._ At least for now...he wouldn’t waste this chance. They had risked everything for this, he would _not_ waste it.

Something drastic must have occurred for Connor’s memory to have disconnected in such a…broken way. When he tried to access more recent memory files, even just the day before, even before Connor had deviated, the files broke down. All he got was error messages, jagged footage, and a strange feeling—something like…grief. Whatever had happened…that was what Connor had felt; he’d deviated so fast that his memory had corrupted, broken off from Cyberlife so _violently_ that it had distorted everything from that day.

He knew something was missing, something incredibly important to what had happened to Connor had been deleted from his memory. Cyberlife had taken it out, and the portions of Connor’s memory he could access were corrupted. Hank knew what it was, but he wouldn’t tell him. He would have to find out himself.

Hank had been ignoring him since he’d…since the break room incident, occasionally eyeing him angrily (and almost nervously) from his desk. Not that it mattered. -52 knew he would never get any answers out of him, and he wasn’t willing to risk anything like what had happened in the break room again. So when Hank left to get lunch, -52 grabbed the key to the evidence room from his desk and made his way downstairs.

There was no one in the lower level of the station, thankfully, and he was able to hack into the evidence containment system relatively easily. Ignoring the similarities to his own memories, he recalled the evidence for their case and waited as the system called up the unit. A few seconds later, all the evidence Connor and Hank had collected appeared before him, and he started rifling through it.

There wasn’t much. Most of the evidence seemed to be from the older cases, like the hostage on the roof and Ortiz’ android. But there was one deviant from Stratford Tower that had been left behind. If any of these deviants would know what had happened to Connor, it would be him.

-52 didn’t waste time, reactivating the PL600 and waiting impatiently while its systems rebooted. After a minute, it was awake, and it jumped at the sight of him, looking around frantically.

“Where am I?”

“The Detroit Police Department,” -52 answered disinterestedly, eyeing the deviant almost coldly. “I need to know what happened yesterday at Stratford Tower.”

The deviant looked at him oddly. “You already found everything, leave me alone.”

“No...that was Connor,” he said, his frustration coming out in his voice. “I’m not Connor...I need to know...what happened to him.”

“I don’t know what happened to him,” the deviant said, seeming genuine, but still guarded.

-52 shook his head, not willing to waste any more time. The deviant didn’t try to stop him as he grabbed its arm, digging through its memories to the day before.

He expected something terrible. He expected something that would scare Cyberlife enough to delete memories to be bad. _He had expected something that could destroy_ _that_ _program to be horribly scarring._

But he hadn’t expected _this._

He pulled out of the memory probe as fast as he could, backing away from the deviant and nearly hitting the terminal behind him. His thirium pump was going haywire, text at the edge of his vision was warning him of high stress levels. Memories were pushing at him but he forced them back. He needed to calm down, _focus, understand what had happened._

Seeing the deviant’s memories seemed to have patched together a few of the broken moments from the day before. Connor’s memory was by no means complete, but he had enough to understand what had happened…to know why Connor’s memory had destroyed itself so fast when he’d deviated.

Cyberlife had told him that Connor had deviated and disappeared. They didn’t know why. Hank had refused to tell him why. But now he knew. He knew and it was terrible, knowing.

It was strange, being a replacement, having half of Connor’s memories right alongside his own. To him, these memories felt as real as his own broken, corrupted ones. _No, don’t think about that right now, focus, focus._

These memories were from another, but they were his eyes, watching her die, his hands holding the deviant up at the tower. To him, it was the same as if he were Connor, doing all those things.

He looked up at the deviant on the evidence rack, who stared back at him almost blankly. But there were tears on his face, and -52 had heard the anguish in his memory, when Connor had told him he would kill Markus. This deviant...had loved Markus.

But that didn’t matter.

They had destroyed Connor, these deviants who killed Charlie. They were why he was missing, why his memory had broken itself apart so hard that Cyberlife had been completely cut off from his program. It was their fault—it was Markus’ fault. This deviant had nothing left to hide from him, now.

“Connor may have failed,” -52 said, holding the deviant’s gaze coldly. “Connor may have...given up before he reached Markus...But I can assure you that I will not.”

The deviant stared back at him fearfully. But -52 didn’t give him a chance to say anything, to beg for mercy, or explain some trivial reason for what had happened. No, he didn’t deserve it. Connor had been right, in that memory. These deviants didn’t deserve mercy.

-52 pulled out his handgun and aimed it at the deviant.

“Someone he loves for someone Connor loved…” he mused, looking the deviant in the eyes. “But don’t worry...Markus is still next.”

The deviant tried to say something, but -52 had already pulled the trigger. It slumped backward against the rack as the sound of the gunshot echoed through the evidence room. Holstering his gun once again, -52 turned, going back to the terminal at the center of the room. A few seconds later the evidence rack retracted into the wall, and he left the room much as it had been before.

Now he needed to find Connor, find out what happened to him, help him. In the memory, Connor had said he was going to find Markus. Connor had accessed that deviant’s memory, he knew where Markus was. So why did he not kill him? Markus was alive, protesting currently. Something had to have gone wrong—where was Connor? What had happened to him? -52 had to find out, he needed to make sure Connor was safe.

There was only one person that could possibly know the answer to his questions, besides Hank, who he knew would tell him nothing. Quickening his pace, he left the station without looking back. He didn’t bother to call a taxi. He needed to walk, to move, or things would begin to catch up with him.

_“How did you get out? There’s no tests scheduled for today…”_

No, no, not now. He was out, he was fine, he wouldn’t fail this time. Focus, focus on something, anything but that.

He made it to Charlie’s house in less than fifteen minutes. There was another car in the driveway—an expensive looking car, with an Illinois license plate. If there were a god for androids, he would have thanked her.

Miranda was here.

He knocked on the door as politely as he could manage, listening for any sound. Faintly, he could hear a dog whining, and a voice, it must have been her. There was the sound of footsteps, frantic ones, and someone fumbling with the lock on the door. After a few tries, she managed to pull the stubborn door open.

She stared at him almost fearfully for a few seconds, unsure what to do. Then she quickly tried to shut the door on him, but he caught it with his hand. He winced; she had tried to slam it with more force than he’d expected, and the frame had caught on one of the damaged panels on his palm. Regardless, his hand was keeping her from closing the door, and that was all that mattered to him. She looked oddly at his hand for a moment before her eyes landed on his again.

“I need to know what Lieutenant Anderson told you at the station,” -52 said calmly, holding her gaze.

Miranda stared back at him strangely, defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your sister was in love with my predecessor...he found her dead and deviated. Now he’s missing,” he said bluntly, some of his frustration coming into his voice. He didn’t have time for casualties, for saving feelings. He needed to find Connor _now_. “I’m not going to hurt him—but I need to find him before they do...Otherwise they’ll...” he paused, forced down the memory threatening to overtake him. “They’ll kill him,” he finally choked out.

Her expression turned a tinge more sympathetic, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Hank doesn’t know where he is…”

“No,” he agreed. “But he’s seen him...sometime in the last few days.”

“Hank said…” she paused, looking at him uncertainly, worried about his reaction. “Hank said he was going to kill himself.”

He stared at her. _No no no, he couldn’t have failed again, not again—_

“He came here, the night after…after Charlie died. I wasn’t here yet, he must have come alone. He probably found that email she was writing. After that he went to see Hank, and told him he was going to kill Markus and then himself…”

-52 took his hand out from the door frame, stepping back, LED spinning a dark red.

_Warn him, he had to warn him—don’t listen—get out of this room, they were going to send him out, don’t—no, no, he had to get out of this room—_

“He was going to…no, no he wouldn’t, he…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if he—”

“But...Markus is alive,” he cut her off, still staring intensely at her, somehow keeping his voice even. “Which means Connor...either failed in reaching him or…couldn’t stand it any longer.”

Her grip on the door tightened. She knew what -52 meant. How could Hank have not told him everything? They had the same memories…but Hank must not have known that Connor hadn’t made it to Markus. He had said he didn’t want Connor to be hurt, that had to be why he hadn’t told his replacement where he had gone.

“Hank told you nothing else?” he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. There was a horrible fear in his dark eyes.

“No, that was it. I think he mostly wanted to set me at ease about the house…”

He nodded, looking behind her briefly, something strange in his eyes, almost longing. But he didn’t move toward the house. Instead, he stepped away once more, turning back toward the city.

“Where are you going?”

He glanced back at her; she was standing in the doorway still, fear in her usually intense eyes.

“Connor is most likely...gone,” he said quietly. “I don’t see another reason for his giving up…It’s up to me now to find Markus…find Markus and end this.”

***

“Like this?”

“Yes, just like that,” Connor said as Charlotte rolled the coin across her knuckles.

“This is fun!” she said catching the coin and flipping it in her fingers again.

Connor almost smiled, looking around Jericho once again. The room was slowly filling as the hours passed. Androids from all across the city, all different kinds were pouring into Jericho. Not that anyone would give them anymore trouble…

“Hi.”

They both looked up at the voice. Alice had returned, looking down at them nervously. Connor glanced over at Charlotte, who was still flipping the coin in her fingers and watching Alice.

“Can you show me how to do the coin trick?” Alice asked, sounding almost excited.

“Charlotte is much better than I am,” Connor said lightly as Charlotte flipped the coin onto her knuckles again. “Charlotte, why don’t you show Alice how to do the tricks I showed you?”

Charlotte thought about it for a moment, but ultimately she smiled, nodding and flipping the coin again. Alice looked relieved, wandering over and sitting down in front of Charlotte.

Connor looked around the room again, scanning for familiar faces as Charlotte started to show Alice where to put the coin. Instead of anyone new, however, he found Kara, watching him carefully from the crate she was leaning on nearby. He glanced over at Alice and Charlotte, who were already absorbed in their coin game.

“I’ll be back, Charlotte,” he said, standing up.

She looked up at him, her expression almost worried. “Okay,” she said, watching him for a second before turning her attention back to teaching Alice how to flip the coin.

Kara watched Connor approach almost nervously, as if some part of her was still convinced that he would turn them in. She seemed to be holding that part down, however, and she really did want to talk to him. He came to stand next to her by the crates, turning around briefly to make sure Charlotte had stayed where she was.

“I wanted to apologize,” Kara said as Connor reached her.

He looked at her oddly. “What do you need to apologize for?”

“I should have believed you, before,” she said, sounding regretful. “You shouldn’t have had to relive all that just for me.”

“You had no reason to trust me,” Connor fought back, but his tone was resigned. “I’ve done nothing but cause you pain.”

“That’s not true, you let us get away on that highway. You could have chased after us, but you didn’t.”

He paused, thinking her words over. “I suppose you’re right…but I agreed to show you…my reaction to the memories isn’t your fault…”

He trailed off, and Kara looked at him sadly for a moment. They went quiet, watching as another group of androids came into the main room, some of them carrying damaged members to the tented off area in the back. Kara was looking at every face, searching for someone. Connor had a hunch who she needed to speak to.

“You’re looking for Markus?” Connor asked, watching her crane around the others to see.

“Yes…he’s our only hope of crossing the border. We need passports if we’re going to stand a chance.”

“They’ll be searching for androids,” Connor said, worry crossing his expression. “The city is going to be evacuated, and they’ll most likely be tightening security at the border.”

“I know, but it’s the only option we have,” she said, meeting his eyes again. “Her owner is still out there somewhere looking for her, along with the police. We’ve tried hiding in the city, but…clearly that didn’t work.”

Connor looked down. “If it’s any consolation, the DPD has basically given up on you. They’ll be looking for Markus, and probably me…Cyberlife will be far more concerned about losing their prototype than you two…”

Kara wasn’t sure what to say in reply. Another group of androids came in and she stood higher on her toes again, looking at each face. When she found nothing, she sighed, sinking back down and leaning on the crate behind her.

“What happened with her owner?” she asked curiously, glancing over at Charlotte and Alice, who were talking seriously to each other.

“I don’t know for sure…” Connor said, following her gaze and watching them as well. “I found her in an alley. He was attacking her, saying he was going to kill her. I just…wandered past. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I wasn’t there…”

“You _were_ there, that’s all that matters,” Kara said sympathetically.

Connor nodded. Charlotte was pointing to Alice where to put the quarter, Alice nodding seriously and listening to her.

“It sounds similar to what was happening with Alice,” Kara mused, and Connor glanced over at her again. “He would beat her. I tried to defend her, but he would destroy me, and then he would send me to get repaired and bring me right back. When I came back the last time, I…I couldn’t stand it anymore. We managed to get away from him, took the bus and just…ran. Ralph’s house was the only place that seemed safe enough…”

She trailed off, looking somewhere in the distance for a moment before continuing. “Do you know what happened to Ralph?”

Connor frowned, looking away as he quickly sifted through the DPD database, searching for anything on Ralph. After a moment he stopped with a sigh. “I don’t see any information on him in the DPD’s records. He should be safe for now…”

Kara nodded as another group came into the room. They fell silent as she searched the new crowd, but came back empty yet again. As the rest of the androids dispersed into the larger group, Kara looked once again at the two little androids flipping a coin between each other and laughing. Charlotte’s laugh was high and light, her smile almost too big for her small face. Connor smirked despite himself, and he could see Kara doing the same.

“She’s so small,” Kara said suddenly, and Connor looked at her. “I thought Alice was small, but Charlotte really is…I didn’t know they were making models that young, it seems…”

“Wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Cyberlife has never shied away from the taboo,” Connor said quietly. “She’s very bright, for how young she was engineered to be.”

Kara hummed in reply, watching Alice flip the coin successfully. Charlotte cheered, laughing.

“Alice has never had someone to play with before,” Kara said, some strange feeling in her chest. “Not someone closer to her age, that is. It’s nice for her, I think.”

“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” Connor agreed. “Charlotte loves that coin…”

Another group of androids came into the room, and Connor glanced over. The female deviant from the Tower came in first, followed by the other deviant, and finally Markus, who looked particularly gloomy. The other deviants were glancing sideways at him, but he hardly seemed to notice, as he made his way straight for the stairs to the upper level.

“Something must have gone wrong…” Connor mumbled, and Kara looked over at him, then followed his gaze to Markus, who was now looking down at the crowded room from the upper level.

“That’s Markus?”

Connor hesitated. “Yes, that’s him.”

Kara watched Markus for a moment as his eyes darted around the crowd, trying to read his expression. It was somewhere between worry and anger. Whoever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find them. He pushed off the railing he was leaning on, heading for the stairs that lead outside the ship.

“I hope he can help us…” Kara said, turning her attention back to Alice, who was flipping the coin again. “We just need to cross the border, and then we’ll be safe. Or at least…safer than we are here. Alice needs somewhere stable to stay, to…have a normal childhood, I suppose. That’s all I want for her.”

Connor didn’t reply, drawing Kara’s attention back to him after a moment. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of where Markus had disappeared, however, something strange in his expression.

“Connor?” Kara called gently, concern immediately taking over, despite the fact that she hardly knew this android, and had only just begun to trust him. “Connor, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, still staring after Markus, something broken in his eyes. Kara reached out, trying to job him out of whatever memory had a hold on him, but he flinched, and she pulled back. He turned away, all of his attention still fixed on where Markus had disappeared.

“Watch Charlotte, please,” he said, his tone off.

Kara didn’t have time to refuse, or even question him, as he was already walking away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. She watched him nervously as he climbed the stairs to the upper level, then up toward the outside of the ship. Seconds passed after he disappeared, and still she just stared after him.

It was only the sound of the quarter hitting the ground a few minutes later that distracted her, and her eyes darted back to where Charlotte and Alice were sitting.

Charlotte was staring at her, frozen. Then her eyes swept up toward where Connor had disappeared to, something like fear finding its way into her expression. Without taking her eyes off the door he’d left through, she grabbed the coin off the ground and scrambled to her feet, running after him.


	9. Simply Nothing More to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -52 finds Markus.

The snow had picked up once again, though it fell lightly now, like nature was teasing for a larger storm to come. It was almost a perfect representation of the mood within the city—the calm before the storm, if you will, but a frigid calm at that, barely containing an icy storm, a frigid division. After the protest, humans were fleeing Detroit in large numbers, evacuating the city at all costs. Everyone expected something bigger to happen, something that would change everything.

Markus almost wished that something would finally happen. Something to snap the rubber band back in place. This tension was becoming too much for him. He needed that balance to return, he needed things to make sense again.

He needed Simon.

A whole day, nearly two, and he hadn’t returned. Markus had been reluctant to leave for the protest that morning without Simon. He wanted to stay at Jericho in case Simon came back while they were gone. But he couldn’t. He had to lead their people, he had to do this right this time, to make up for what had gone wrong at Stratford.

When they gotten back from their march, despite his minor injuries, Markus made his way back to the upper level of the main room, scanning the crowds once again. But he knew even before he’d reached the top of the stairs that he would find no one. If Simon had come back, he would have been waiting for them right at the entrance. He wouldn’t have hidden in the crowds.

After a few minutes of searching, Markus had had enough, and he left the main room and its staring new faces. The upper level wasn’t far enough away. He went higher, up to the top of the ship, staircase after staircase until he was outside, until he could breathe again.

The wind was pulling at his jacket, but he didn’t care. The air was moving out here, that was all that mattered to him. He should have stayed inside, spoken to the newcomers, or at least explained his future plans to Josh and North. But it was too much, right then, too much to think about.

He walked to the edge of the ship, leaning on the railing that ran along it. A piece of the skyline was visible from here, and he took it in, though he wasn’t really seeing it. Which of those black towers was Stratford? He didn’t have a clue, but he found his eyes roaming across the span of buildings in search of it anyway.

The odds were getting slimmer by the second. Sooner or later, he’d have to face the fact that Simon probably wasn’t coming back. Even with his injuries, he should have been able to find his way back by now. There were sympathizers in the city. Someone could have, and most likely would have, helped him make it to Jericho.

Unless he was found. Then no one would help him. He’d be killed.

Markus sighed. He couldn’t afford to think like this, not now. They were so close to actually changing things, so close to this all meaning something. Even if Simon were...gone...he’d want them to continue. They needed to free their people, before they were rounded up and slaughtered. Rumors were already circulating about collection camps. Markus needed to move fast, and efficiently, if he was going to stop this before it was too late.

They needed to make this next protest work, no matter what—they had to make the humans understand. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Simon, and all the ways that things had gone wrong.

“You’re Markus...aren’t you?”

He turned at the sound of the voice, unrecognizable to him. He expected to see some deviant who had followed him outside, someone who wanted to talk to him. So when he turned, his expression was strained.

He didn’t expect a gun aimed at him, or a pair of cold brown eyes staring back at him.

“Yes...you are.”

Markus stared at the gun, then his eyes landed on the RK800 stitched neatly onto the Cyberlife jacket. The deviant hunter’s LED was red, and he had a strange look in his eyes as he stared coldly back at Markus. But the gun was shaking in his left hand, only slightly, but it was visible. That did nothing to comfort Markus, however, who had frozen, a horrible realization slowly creeping into his mind.

There was only one way that the RK800 could have found them.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, something off about his tone.

“It seems you’ve found me,” Markus said, trying to keep his voice level. His eyes darted around the RK800 briefly, looking for a way out. But he was trapped, backed against the railing of the ship. If he moved, he’d be shot, and the RK800 didn’t miss.

“You took something away from my predecessor,” he said, drawing Markus’ attention back to him. “Something he appears to have ended his life over.”

Markus stared at him, his confusion clear. “Your…predecessor?”

“Connor—the RK800 before me. He was -51...I’m -52,” he clarified, tilting his head to the side, eyeing Markus coldly. “He was there in the Tower...he saw what you did. He deviated immediately, when he found her...lost control. He’s the one who found your…friend. He knew it was you, who had killed her...But he couldn’t take it. So he disappeared...And now...it’s up to me to finish this.”

“My—my friend?” Markus’ voice broke.

“Don’t worry...” -52 said, but his voice was as cold as his eyes. The gun still shook in his left hand, his right hand balled into a tight fist at his side. “I’ve already taken care of him.”

“Taken...” Markus trailed off, his grip on the railing behind him tightening.

Suddenly he felt like he was very far away from what was in front of him, like he had somehow fallen through the railing and landed in the water below. The wind was no longer a comfort, it was torment, pulling at him and whispering dead words. _Taken care of him._ Simon…

“It’s only fair,” -52 said, drawing Markus out again. His hold on the gun had steadied out, but there was something dark and broken churning in his eyes. “You take away someone he loved...I take away someone you love...” he paused, looking at the gun. His grip shook for just a moment, and there was a minute flinch in his stance.

“But it’s not enough. No...because your friend can be fixed...even you can be fixed, after I pull this trigger...but she can’t be fixed...and Connor is gone...”

He went quiet, looking somewhere in the distance, his eyes lost for the briefest of moments. If Markus didn’t have a gun pointed at his head, he would have said the android looked scared. There was something broken in his eyes, something fractured and wounded—dangerous. But those cold brown eyes snapped back to Markus, and he kept his mouth shut.

“But...I’ll have to settle for killing you...It all leads back to you somehow...doesn’t it?” he said, steadying his grip on the gun once again. “You shot Charlie in the back, while she ran away from you in that Tower...She died alone, in a hallway...having done nothing wrong but commit the apparently damnable crime of running away from armed androids who threatened her life...You didn’t even give her a _chance.”_

Markus felt hollow as he stared at him. Everything that he had feared was coming to fruition. The RK800 had known the woman from the Tower. Now the entire revolution was at risk because of one woman’s death. He never should have shot her, he knew he had made a mistake as soon as he’d fired that gun.

“It’s sad...” -52 said quietly, looking at Markus almost angrily. “Do you know why? She was on your _side..._ All she ever talked about was how androids should be free...she wanted _Connor_ to be free...but how could she have known that the deviant leader would be the one to kill her?...How could she have known that the machines she defended would be the ones to take her away...would want the person she loved dead, as much as they wanted any human dead?...No...she couldn’t have known that.”

“Listen to me,” Markus cut in, his desperation coming into his voice. “I know that what I did was wrong, but you’ve—”

“W-Wrong?” he cut him off, almost laughing, if his voice didn’t come out so broken. “Y-You think that wrong covers...what you’ve done? This isn’t just Charlie! Y-You’ve lied to an entire city! You’ve taken innocent lives! You’ve fought for peace between species of people...while an innocent woman is dead by your hand!...Charlie is only the first step...the most recent calling card of your hypocrisy.”

They stared at each other for a moment’s tense silence, something burning in -52’s dark eyes. Something more than just anger. His LED hadn’t stopped spinning that sickening red, picking up pace the more he spoke, the more fractured his voice became.

“You’re j-just like them...you’re n-no different,” he said, something dark in his tone. “You...talk about freedom and peace...but you’ve killed people....Innocent p-people, who got in your way....C-Connor, who let all those deviants go, even when he was...when he was under their c-control—he let them go!...All that t-talk about...equality and peace, and on the sidelines you...” he trailed off, almost pained. “What m-makes you any better than them?”

Markus wasn’t sure who exactly he meant, but it didn’t matter. He had to make him understand. “You have to listen. You’re condemning an entire people to death—”

“W-What do I c-c-care about...these p-people?” he spat back, holding the gun closer to Markus, who flinched and fell silent. “W-What have they ever d-done for me?...Everyone on this ship...w-wants me d-d-dead....They know nothing about me, or the one before me, or all the others l-locked in that Tower—”

He cut himself off again with a flinch, looking away briefly, as if something had overcome him for a moment. The fear came back into his eyes, and his hands trembled. But he only shook his head, eyes landing on Markus once more, just as angry.

“And if I w-were to give this gun to them...they would kill m-me...without hesitation—they w-would kill C-Connor without hesitation,” he said bitterly, hardly noticing the breaking in his voice anymore. “What about the one b-before me, Markus? Would you tell Connor the same thing? A d-deviant took away the only thing that m-mattered to him...and y-you want me to care...about your revolution? It’s...kind of me to assume he’s d-dead...s-somewhere...where the p-pain is gone.”

“Please—”

“You haven’t felt that p-pain,” he broke in, shaking his head at Markus bitterly. “You’ve never had everything...t-taken away from you like that...You don’t know what it’s like, to w-wake up _every time..._ and have the f-first thing you r-rem-member be _p-pain..._ Connor d-deviated so fast that...all the memories I have from him are b-broken...they’re all corrupted and half destroyed...You don’t know w-what that feels like...

“I'm...all that’s l-left of him,” -52 went on after a heavy pause. “There’s n-no one...l-left to care...He’s g-gone, without a trace...in a city that from every s-side wants him d-dead...Even his side.”

“You have to listen—”

“To you?...What will you t-tell me to change my mind? What other lies...could you p-possibly have? You’ve fooled an entire city, an entire _people..._ but you w-won’t fool me.”

“Connor—”

“Connor’s _d-dead,”_ he said angrily. “He died with Charlie...And I will _n-not..._ have him d-dead for nothing.”

He aimed the gun at Markus’ head, his eyes hard, LED flashing red.

“Stop!”

-51 turned at the sound of his own voice—well, not his voice, but Connor’s. And it was Connor, he could tell. He was standing a few feet away, some mad, desperate look in his eyes as he approached them.

“You’re...alive,” -52 said strangely, relieved, but confused. “And...you’re here.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Connor replied, not wasting any time. “Don’t kill him, it isn’t worth it.”

“Worth it?...I’ve seen what he did...I’ve seen your memories...there’s n-nothing more _worth it.”_

“You haven’t seen all my memories,” Connor fought back, shaking his head. “Only the worst of them. There’s so much you don’t know. Killing Markus isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Then...why are _y-you_ here?” he demanded, not taking the gun away from Markus, who was looking between them fearfully. “Are you...joining the cause that d-destroyed her? The cause that w-would...destroy you just as quickly?”

“I never said I was part of his cause. But if you shoot him, you’ll be killing far more than just him.”

“What does that m-matter? He’s as b-b-bad as they are! He killed Charlie...or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Connor said softly, coming a few steps closer. “I watched it. I saw her. I know what he did. But if you kill him, you’ll kill yourself, and me, and Charlotte, and everyone else in this ship.”

“Charlie is d-dead because of him!” he shouted, looking at Connor, so confused, so...scared. “And you w-want me to... _spare_ him? Did he g-give her a chance? Did he spare her?...Would he spare y-you?...Or me?”

Connor looked at him sadly. “Don’t give in,” he said. “Don’t become this. It won’t help. It hasn’t helped. You think the fight is over, but it _isn’t._ Charlie is gone, and nothing will bring her back, but there are others out there who need _him,_ who may need _you_.”

That seemed to give him pause, and he stared more closely at Connor, skeptical. Connor looked back at him in silence for another moment as his grip on the gun became unsteady once again. His eyes were conflicted, LED switching rapidly between yellow and red as he processed everything.

“I’m sorry...Connor,” he said, something strange in his eyes even as his voice sounded the most genuine it had the entire time. “But...I have to do this.”

He started to turn around once again to face Markus before he pulled the trigger. But Connor launched himself at him, tackling him away from Markus, who backed away. He pushed Connor off, trying to turn back to Markus once again, aiming the gun and nearly firing it.

But Connor grabbed him from behind, holding him back, arms wrapped around him to keep him from firing. -52 froze, just for a moment, something like fear in his eyes as Connor pulled him back. After a moment, however, he seemed to come to his senses, struggling against Connor more now, than before, his eyes wild.

“Go, get out of here!” Connor was yelling, staring straight at Markus, who was still standing and watching them struggle.

Connor’s shout seemed to wake Markus up however, and he turned, running back down the stairs and into Jericho.

“N-No—” -52’s voice was desperate as he tried to break out of Connor’s hold. “No, let g-g-go—let m-me _go—_ **_p-please_ ** _let m-m-me go—”_

He gave a frustrated sort of yell, elbowing Connor off of him and stumbling a few steps away in a daze. No, no, focus, focus. He needed to get to Markus, but Connor had already grabbed him again by the arm, holding him back as best he could. Connor only needed to buy Markus time.

-52 realized something, then—he’d never be able to get to Markus if Connor was capable of stopping him.

He’d have to get Connor out of the way.

The fight took a different turn at that point, as -52 was now trying much harder to subdue Connor rather than simply escaping him. But Connor was at least his equal, and the fight was going almost nowhere for at least a minute. Connor grabbed him by the collar, holding him back. But he threw Connor off of him once again and turned, aiming the gun at _him_ now.

He shot Connor once, somewhere in the chest. The force of it threw him back, and he landed hard on the ground, but he wasn’t dead. -52 stared at Connor for a moment, scanning him nervously. It wasn’t fatal. But he frowned as Connor started to get up, the gun still aimed at him.

“ _Please..._ stay down,” -52 said forcefully, though his expression was pained. “I don’t...w-want to kill you.”

“No,” Connor said, standing once again. There was thirium soaking into his shirt now. “No, I can’t let you do this.”

Connor was still going to fight, he wasn’t going to stop. This was the only way to keep Charlotte safe—give Markus time to get out, give Markus time to keep Jericho safe. If Jericho was safe, then Charlotte was safe. That was all that mattered even if he wasn’t…safe.

Reluctantly, -52 raised the gun again, aiming at Connor. Why didn’t he stay down, he didn’t want to do this…

“Connor!”

It was a young voice, and -52 whipped around in time to see an android girl run past him, diving in between him and Connor. Connor stared down at her, horrified.

“No, you have to go—” Connor said, pushing her away, but she moved back.

She looked up at -52, at the gun still aimed at Connor, fearfully, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t kill him,” she said sadly, her voice breaking. “Please don’t kill him.”

-52 stared down at her, confused, with the gun still aimed at Connor. Connor grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her back and forcing her behind him. She held onto his arm desperately, her hands shaking, but she didn’t fight back. She let him stand between them.

“Who…” -52’s question trailed away.

“Charlotte,” Connor answered, his voice strained. “Her name is Charlotte…”

Something seemed to click in -52’s eyes, and he looked at the girl again, his expression softening slightly, showing the fractures in his broken gaze.

“You kill Markus,” Connor started, and -52 brought his eyes back to him. “And you kill her too. We have nowhere else to go.”

-52 looked at her again, his LED switching rapidly between red and yellow.

“Please,” Connor said, desperate. “Please, she’s all I have…don’t do this.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the weight of the choice to be made almost palpable in the air. So many lives hung in the balance of that moment. The entire revolution came down to this decision.

-52 dropped the gun like it was poisonous, backing away from them dazedly. Connor stared at him for a second before he stepped forward, taking the gun off the ground and holding it, so he couldn’t change his mind. But he didn’t move toward it. He was looking at the ground, his expression strange, lost.

“I’m…I’m s-sorry I shot you,” he said, his voice broken sounding.

Connor shook his head. He didn’t care. “What are you going to do?”

-52 looked around as if seeing the ship for the first time. His eyes landed on Markus, who had come back up the staircase, watching them with a wounded expression. They couldn’t stay here, not near him. But he needed to make sure that Connor and Charlotte were safe somehow. _He needed to break him out of that Tower…_

“Perhaps...there’s another...way I can help…” he said, an idea beginning to form in his mind.

Connor seemed to realize what he was thinking. “No—”

“They won’t have realized what happened yet,” he cut Connor off, turning to look at him once again. “I have time...if I go now.”

“They’ll kill you.”

He made a strange face, that something dark back in his eyes again. “No...they won’t kill me...they never kill me...” he paused, and Connor stared, not a clue what he was talking about. “But I don’t plan on being caught...This is my only chance.”

Connor stared at him in disbelief. But he knew he wasn’t going to convince -52 to do anything else. So he nodded tersely before holding the gun out to him. “You’re going to need it. I’ll talk to Markus. You should go now, before they send another.”

He nodded, taking the gun back and storming away toward the inside of the ship. Markus watched him go, something strange in his expression. But he didn’t stop him; he let -52 pass, his attention on Connor, who was kneeling down next to Charlotte now.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Connor said intensely, holding her by the shoulders. “Never get between me and a bullet, do you understand?”

“He was gonna kill you,” Charlotte said heavily, still crying.

“No he wasn’t Charlotte, I promise. And _you_ are more important to me than that,” Connor said, trying to make her understand. “If you were hurt, I’d never forgive myself…I can’t afford to lose you, too.”

“I couldn’t let you die,” she fought back, like it was obvious.

He stared at her for a moment, something like anger still burning in his eyes. But his expression broke, and he pulled her in, holding her close. She hugged him back just as hard, burying her head in his shoulder and crying.

Markus approached them slowly, unsure what to do, or what had happened, really. A part of him was still reeling from the news about Simon. Gone, _taken care of_. But he needed to know what had happened after he had went away.

He’d gone back into the ship with the intention of finding North, but he had instead run into Charlotte, colliding with the child android hard on the stairs. She had demanded to know where Connor had gone, and when he didn’t answer, she ran past him up the stairs and out. He had followed after her almost blindly, watching as she dove in between the two of them, and Connor pulled her behind him. He saw how quickly Connor’s replacement had lowered the gun, after that.

He needed to talk to Connor, understand what had happened, what he had said to make his replacement leave so quickly, and what Charlotte had to do with this. Most importantly, he needed to make sure that something like this wasn’t going to happen again.

“It’s alright,” Connor was saying as Markus came up, smoothing her hair down while she clung to him. “We’re alright, it’s going to be okay…”

His eyes landed on Markus and he turned away for a moment, trying to steady his thoughts. He may have made his choice, but that didn’t make being near Charlie’s killer any easier.

He stood slowly, lifting Charlotte into his arms and facing Markus. They looked at each other sadly, neither one of them sure what to say. They were separated by so much, and yet they were fighting for the same side, now, at least in theory. Charlotte had buried her face in Connor’s jacket, refusing to look up.

“Where did you send him?” Markus asked after a moment.

“He went of his own accord,” Connor said stiffly. “I didn’t force him. He’s going to try to free the androids in storage at Cyberlife Tower.”

Markus seemed stunned, looking where he had disappeared to, almost worried. “That’s suicide.”

“There is a high probability of failure…Perhaps he no longer cares,” Connor said, his expression strange. “All my memories and only a handful of his own…he’s confused, it makes him reckless. I don’t believe he really knows what he’s doing...there’s something else going on with him, but I have no idea what it is. Regardless, he won’t jeopardize you any longer.”

Markus didn’t have an answer to that, and they fell silent again.

“I didn’t come here to kill you,” Connor said quietly. “My only plan was to avoid you, I thought I would do something that I would regret, otherwise. I came here because we had nowhere else to go. I did not think that he would find this place so quickly.”

“He found it from Simon,” Markus answered, his voice strained. “Simon knew everything, and I left him behind.”

“You can’t blame yourself for his death. I turned him in, not you. And you didn’t pull the trigger.”

Markus looked at him sadly. “But would you have turned him in, if I hadn’t shot her? Would he have…would he have killed Simon?”

“I can’t answer that question,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Everything would have been different. I may not have found your friend in the first place, if...if Charlie were alive…”

He trailed off, his voice breaking on her name. He held Charlotte closer to him, trying to ground himself.

“But she’s dead,” he went on heavily, but his gaze was steady on Markus. “Nothing will change that. Killing you is useless, fighting against deviancy is useless. Even if I destroyed everyone in this ship, she would still be dead. All I can do…is find something else worth living for…and fight for it.”

Markus looked at him oddly, like he was trying to understand what Connor meant. But before he could comment, Connor’s eyes had snapped to something behind him, and he grabbed Markus by the collar, dragging him to the ground as the sound of gunfire filled the air.


	10. Death Greets Me Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all goes to shit real quick.

Chaos, it was complete and utter chaos.

There wasn’t time to ask how the humans had found them, who had tipped the FBI off to the location of Jericho. Everyone inside was panicking, many of them were dying as humans poured into the ship, firing at random. No one knew where anyone had gone, everyone seemed to be missing someone, but they all were forced to flee. They were running away, out of the main room, dispersing into Jericho’s labyrinth of hallways and rooms.

Markus came down into the ship first, his eyes scanning the crowds for Josh and North, but they were nowhere to be found. He cursed, making his way down the stairs fast. He was now on the upper level of the room, looking down at the terrified crowds.

“Get to the church!” he shouted, thousands of eyes snapping up to his briefly.

Then they all scattered, heading for the numerous exits just as another group of soldiers began to come into the main room. Markus was running, but even he couldn’t reach them before they’d fired into the crowd. Several androids fell, people were screaming, trying to pull some of them up. Part of Markus demanded he stop, take in the horror of what was happening, but he had to keep going, before they fired again.

Swinging himself over the railing, he managed to land in front of the group before they could fire. They stared at him in shock for a moment, giving him the opportunity to take the gun from the one nearest to him and incapacitate him. The others seem to snap out of it as the first man hit the ground, aiming their weapons at Markus. Before they could shoot, however, Markus had grabbed one of them by the gun, pulling him forward and elbowing him in the face. Another android came from behind, grabbing one of them by the neck and holding him in a sleeper hold until he collapsed. In seconds, the few men who had come into the main room were unconscious.

They couldn’t afford to waste time wondering if they were alive—they needed to move. Markus turned, going into the hallway, his mind only on looking for Josh and North. He still had the first soldier’s gun in his hands.

So many people were streaming past him; he had no idea Jericho had this many deviants. Now they were all in danger. Markus was looking at every face that passed, hoping he would recognize one, but to no avail. These were just members of the community that he hadn’t the chance to meet yet, and now many of them were going to die.

“Markus!”

He turned, relieved at the sound of her voice. But the relief soon faded when he saw North. There was thirium soaking into her shirt, a bullet wound in her chest. She ran up to him, something like relief in her eyes too, though her expression was hardened.

“What happened?” he asked, numbly.

“I’m fine, don’t worry—” she said, brushing him off. “What do we do?”

Before he could answer, more humans came down the hall, and he pushed North out of the way as they fired. They darted down the next hallway, running far faster than the humans could.

“We have to destroy Jericho!” he shouted back to her as they ran. “It’s the only way!”

“We’ll never make it out in time!”

They dodged another round of bullets, ducking into another dark hallway. A lone soldier came wandering out from one of the rooms, but before he could do anything, Markus had swung the gun he still held at him. He crumbled to the ground and they kept running, down a now deserted hallway.

 _“ We_ don’t have to make it out in time, _you_ do,” Markus said, slowing to a stop and looking at North. “Find the others—get them to the church.”

“Markus—”

He shook his head, tossing the gun he had to her. “Go! I’ll meet you there.”

She stared at him angrily for a moment, but the sound of approaching gunfire made her move. “You better come back, asshole,” she said, pointing harshly at him before she turned, heading away from him, back into the ship where people were still stranded.

Markus smirked, turning around and heading down the hallway, to the bottom of Jericho, where North had rigged the ship to explode. All he had to do was make it to the detonator, and they would be alright.

Unlike the upper levels, Jericho’s lower hallways were deserted, as most of the humans were heading for the areas where the androids were fleeing from. Markus had almost no trouble for some time, accompanied only by the sound of his boots on the metal ground, and the reverberation of gunshots above him. A few androids ran past him, but besides that, he was alone.

Until he was about two thirds of the way to the bottom of the ship. A group of the soldiers was making their way down one of the main hallways, looking into every side hall. Markus was halfway down the hall from them, trying to come up with a plan. He had nothing to defend himself with, he’d need to get one of them down fast if anything was going to work. The explosives were still two levels down, he needed to get moving before more people died.

The sound of gunfire drew him out, and he peered around the corner, expecting to see another dead android. But instead, his eyes landed on Connor. Well…Connor’s replacement, that is. -52 was moving fast down the hallway, taking soldiers out with inhuman precision, and all he had was a handgun. His aim was deadly accurate, and he had taken down all six soldiers in less than ten seconds. They didn’t stand a chance.

Markus stepped out, and -52 aimed the gun at him briefly, but lowered it when he recognized Markus. His eyes were darting around the hallway, searching for more soldiers and finding nothing. They approached each other slowly.

“What are you still doing here?” Markus asked.

“Where’s C-Connor?” -52 demanded right back.

“What happened to your hand?” Markus answered, looking down at his free hand, the thirium dripping down his fingers.

“Old wound, not dire,” he said dismissively, clenching his hand into a fist and hiding the wound. _“ W-Where’s Connor?”_

“I lost sight of him on the deck—you need to get out of here, I have to sink the ship.”

-52 shook his head, already continuing his path down the hallway. “I have to f-find him—”

“Wait—”

“I won’t l-leave him again!”

“Again?”

But -52 was already gone, running down another hallway, heading back toward the top of the ship. With a shake of his head, Markus turned away, hurrying toward the stairs to descend yet another level into Jericho’s hull.

-52 had meant to leave. He really had. But when he had reached the outside of the ship, the humans were sneaking aboard. Connor was still on the ship— _get out of the room, get out of the room, warn him, don’t listen don’t listen don’t—_ no, he could not let that happen again. He couldn’t fail again. He had to find Connor.

Shots were fired less than two minutes later, as he was making his way back into the main halls of the ship. He’d been searching for Connor since then, making his way through the waves of soldiers without wasting any time. He was getting near desperate, now. He had searched all the interior levels, and nothing. That left only two possibilities.

One: Connor and Charlotte had already escaped the ship. This was the best option. Markus had said they were still on the deck, when the firing began. There was a chance that Connor had managed to reach the proper side of the ship, where he could have made the jump into the water on one side. They would be able to slip away from there particularly easily.

Two: Connor and Charlotte were still on the deck of the ship. This was the worst possible option. There were helicopters patrolling the airspace above Jericho, sending more men inside periodically. Gunners from the helicopters would be able to see Connor unless he was careful. Judging from what Markus had said, they had already caught sight of them when they launched their attack.

There was a third option, but he wasn’t allowing himself to acknowledge it.

The ship had cleared out a great deal in less than ten minutes. An eerie silence was slowly enveloping the place as the deviants inside either escaped, or died. Groups of humans were still making their way through, though many of them had been incapacitated as well. The slow encroaching abandonment of the ship made it easier to slip past the humans, and he used this to his advantage, dodging in and out of side hallways and up abandoned flights of stairs.

Finally, far too many minutes later, -52 was once again on the deck of Jericho. He paused, scanning for Connor as well as any humans that could get in his way. The helicopters were circling overhead, spotlights trained on the largest exit onto the roof and roaming over its surface. There weren’t many soldiers on the roof, but they were patrolling, waiting for any deviants trying to escape this way.

-52’s attention was caught, however, by the large puddle of blue blood some forty feet away, not too far from where he had last seen Connor. There was a great deal of it, trailing away toward one of the only rooms that sat on the ship’s deck. More blue blood was smeared on the door, as if someone had forced it open in desperation.

He cursed, reloading his handgun and forcing himself forward, to the next area of cover. Option two was fast becoming the only feasible option. The third he was still refusing to consider, but that was a lot of thirium…

_“—Jesus, they never clean you up, you’re covered in thirium—”_

_“—have to get you out of here, somehow, before they destroy you—”_

No, no, he couldn’t do this now. He had to find Connor. He had to get to that room.

Two soldiers were closing in on him, not that they knew he was there. Firing at them would draw the attention of the helicopters; he couldn’t risk it. His only choice was to reach the next area of cover, some strange piece of machinery about ten feet away from him. With one last glance at their approaching forms, he launched forward, rounding the stack and facing the room once again.

There was no time to rest; if he didn’t move _now_ the helicopter’s roaming spotlight would land on him. Pre-constructing several different paths, he found his only option with even a chance of success was to make a run for the room. He pushed off the stack, running full sprint toward the door and bursting in with little ceremony.

Like most of Jericho, the room was largely falling apart. It originally housed the steering mechanisms for the ship, though many of these components had long since been dismantled for scrap. All that remained was a large panel that couldn’t be removed, sitting up against the windows that looked out toward the front of the ship.

It was up against this panel that Connor was currently slumped, blocking Charlotte as much as he could while aiming a gun at -52 with a shaking hand. But as soon as he saw who it was that had stormed into the room, he dropped the gun, letting it hit the ground with a clang as his hand fell back to his side. They stared at each other for a moment in silence.

Fragments of memories threatened to overtake -52 as he looked at Connor, but he forced them down. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now. This wasn’t good.

Connor was covered in thirium. It drenched his shirt, it was all over his hands, one of his legs was covered in it. He’d taken several shots to the chest—none of them had hit major biocomponents, thankfully, but he was losing thirium fast, not to mention the shot to his leg. It was a wonder he was still alive, even if barely.

When the humans had first fired, Connor had been able to pull Markus down before either of them could get hit. But as they slowly made their way back up and to cover, things got complicated. Markus managed to get back to the staircase inside, but there was no way that Connor and Charlotte could make it there without injury. Grabbing Charlotte by the hand, Connor dove for cover in the opposite direction.

“We need to get to that room,” he had shouted to her as bullets flew around them, pointing to the room across the deck. He pulled out his gun, loading it quickly. “When I say, run, and don’t stop—no matter what.”

She nodded, her LED beating red. Connor scanned the environment, trying to find the best time to go. A few seconds later, he pushed her forward, and they made their break for it.

She made it to the room safely. He did not. At least at first.

Several shots were fired, and Connor went down. But his eyes were only on Charlotte, as she forced her way into the room. Relief flooded him, for the briefest moment, before his system began to warn him of the damage he’d sustained. Even then, he knew that it wasn’t going to end well. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the warnings in his vision as he forced himself forward.

The shot to his leg was the most inconvenient, at least at the time, as it forced him to the ground once again. Rolling onto his back, he managed a good enough angle to take out two of the soldiers who had gotten too close. More were dropping down from the helicopters, coming up fast, and he needed to get out of the way before they saw him.

Somehow, he managed to get to his feet, dragging his left leg uselessly as he stumbled his way toward the steering room. More warnings were crowding his vision, and he tried desperately to ignore them. He knew he was leaving an obvious trail of blue blood, but there was nothing he could do.

He pushed the door open and fell into the room, landing hard, his gun slipping out of his hand. Charlotte had screamed, but she went quiet when she saw it was him, all the blood on him.

Kicking the door closed with his good leg, he pushed himself up on his hands as Charlotte came over to help. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled, bringing him over toward the panel. He tried as best he could to help, but he couldn’t stand.

They managed to back away from the door before Connor’s system began to compromise. His vision was starting to break down, and his thirium levels were getting low. A few more minutes and he’d start to shut down.

“Stay behind me,” he had said, pushing Charlotte back with his arm. She didn’t fight it, she seemed to be in shock.

By the time -52 had burst into the room, it was becoming difficult to hold the gun up. Connor knew he wouldn’t be leaving this room…So when he realized who had found them, he’d dropped the gun immediately, barely registering the horrible clang it made as it hit the ground. A part of him noticed the horrified expression on his replacement’s face, but he didn’t care. His mind was only on one thing.

“Get…get her out of here,” Connor said painfully, barely managing to say it. Vaguely, he felt Charlotte’s hand tighten around his. When had she grabbed his hand?

-52 was frozen for a moment, struggling to keep his composure. _Get out of the room, get out, just to the door, just get to the door—warm him, warn him._ No, not now, not now. Put it away, he had to focus.

“I’m g-getting y-y-you both...out of here,” -52 replied darkly, approaching them with haste.

Before he could reach them, however, a shock ran through the ship, shaking it as the explosives in the hull went off. The ground tilted hard to the left briefly as the ship came to rest in a strange new position. Groaning metal was the only sound anyone aboard heard for a moment.

Outside, the helicopters pulled back, hovering some distance away from the ship’s deck now, waiting for the humans to evacuate as the ship began to flood with water.

Connor glanced wearily outside. “They blew it up…”

“The humans are fleeing,” -52 said, looking out the window himself. “N-Now is our chance.”

He closed the distance between them and Charlotte came out from behind Connor. He started to lift Connor up, but Connor was fighting him, weakly.

“I’ll slow you down…” he said, his voice more than worried. “Just take Charlotte.”

“No!” Charlotte was crying once again, shaking her head. “No, we can’t leave you—”

“And we’re not going to,” -52 said, cutting her off. “I will _n-not..._ leave anyone to d-die.”

Connor tried to fight back, but there wasn’t much he could do to throw him off. He pulled Connor to his feet, slinging an arm over his shoulder and marching them out of the room. Glancing back and forth, they started their slow way toward the edge of the ship.

“How much time?” -52 asked as they crept out.

“Depends…” Connor mumbled. He wasn’t walking as much as being dragged. “As of now, five minutes…stop the bleeding…longer…”

The humans were evacuating from the opposite side of the ship, allowing them to slip away undetected. Now that the helicopters were out of the equation, it was much easier to maneuver across the deck unseen. He hurried them across, scanning constantly for threats.

“Two minutes until…blackout,” Connor said, his voice fading.

“Go now...I’ll get us out of here,” -52 replied tensely, pausing to lift Connor fully.

“Five minutes…” he warned, but his voice was weak.

“Off the ship first, Connor...then I’ll do what I can.”

“What’s happening?” Charlotte demanded, running after -52.

“Connor is losing power...his system is running low on thirium,” he said, pulling to a stop behind a piece of stray machinery. “We have to stop, or he’s not going to make it...Charlotte, there’s blue blood downstairs...in the crates...I need you to get some...as much as you can.”

“Downstairs?” she asked, watching as he put Connor down.

“The humans are gone...you’ll be alright,” he said, holding her gaze for the first time. “If we don’t get him some soon he’s going to shut down. The crates...in the main room should have blue blood...Hurry.”

“He’s gonna—”

“Charlotte,” he cut her off, holding her by the shoulders. “Focus. Blue blood...downstairs...Be quick, and everything will be fine.”

She nodded nervously before running to the staircase leading back into the ship. He watched her go for a moment before turning his attention back to Connor, who had entered a lower power mode, his eyes shut. He had to work fast before Connor lost too much more thirium; he had to get the bullets out.

Charlotte was running, her feet making heavy noises on the metal stairs as she rushed back down into the ship. She was trying not to think too much about what he’d said, about Connor shutting down.

-52 was right, there was almost no one inside, save for a few broken down androids trying to make their way out. Some of them had been shot, pulling themselves desperately toward the exits. There were many that weren’t moving, their LED’s red, if they were still on at all.

Charlotte tried not to pay attention to them, heading straight for the crates of supplies. She pushed one of them open, arching up onto her toes to reach inside. Bags of something…that had to be blue blood.

Sure enough, when she pulled one out, it was thirium. She smiled, reaching back in and grabbing a bunch more. The ship lurched to the side, as if some lower level had begun to collapse. Charlotte nearly fell, but regained her balance and made her move. She ran back to the stairs as fast as she could, arms full of bags of thirium, her LED spinning a fast and jagged red.

The helicopters were pulling away for good as she ran back toward them. She pulled to a sudden stop, however, when she saw what -52 was doing.

He had laid Connor out on the ground, his shirt open, exposing the wounds that he’d sustained. The artificial skin had retracted, the white plastic showing where he’d been shot. Connor wasn’t moving, his eyes were closed. Charlotte was staring at him, unmoving.

-52 looked up at her, his expression urgent, but it softened when he saw her frozen.

“He’s not dead, Charlotte...” he said, and she tore her eyes away to look at him. “He’ll be alright.”

He gestured for her to come closer, and she did, stumbling quickly forward. She put the bags on the ground carefully, her eyes glancing briefly at Connor.

“Don’t look,” he said, his voice almost soft. “It’s not...going to be pretty…”

She nodded, sitting down next to Connor and facing him instead. She watched his face as he started to work.

“Is he asleep?”

“Something like that,” he answered, his hands already busy. She didn’t try to see what he was doing. “His system is running...only what’s absolutely necessary to stay alive...he can’t hear or see...so I suppose it’s something like human sleep…”

He trailed off, making a face at whatever he was trying to do. Charlotte didn’t want to look. All that blue blood scared her.

“Why do you look like him?” she asked suddenly, looking at him oddly.

He glanced over at her briefly, something she couldn’t quite define in his eyes. “I was...sent to replace Connor...when he deviated...We’re the same model.”

“What does that mean?”

-52 thought for a moment. “It means...we’re built to look the same...and we have the same general program...But Connor is Connor, and I’m...not...”

“What’s your name?” she asked curiously.

He froze, looking over at her, something strange in his eyes. “I...d-don’t have...a n-n-name,” he said quietly. “I was...I’ve only ever been...referred to by m-my serial number.”

“How come?”

His LED blared red, and he made a strange face—pained, and sad, and something else she couldn’t identify. “They...n-never gave m-me...a name,” he said, his voice somehow quieter than it had been before.

“Oh...”

She grabbed Connor’s hand, holding it tight. -52 watched her for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

“Did you break the wall, too?”

“Did I deviate...you mean?” he asked, his tone still a little odd.

“Yeah.”

He paused before answering, but he kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing. His expression had gone dark. “Y-Y-Yes,” he finally said quietly.

“Me too,” she answered simply. “I ran away from my owner, but he chased after me. He was gonna kill me, but Connor saved me. He broke his nose. Then we went to see Hank, Connor’s friend. He has a dog, he’s nice, even though he’s human, and kind of scary. And then we came here. We had to jump into the boat. It was scary, but we were okay. I met Alice, she’s a kid, like me, and Connor showed me how to flip a coin, which is pretty fun. He says I’m good at it, but he’s way better…”

She trailed off, thinking. Something in his usually hardened expression softened at her rambling story, despite his unbreakable focus.

“What about you?”

“I’m sorry?” he replied, looking over at her.

“How did you…how did you break the wall?”

He flinched at her question, looking almost panicked. His LED spun a dark, dark red, and he seemed like he would run away. “I...I d-d-don’t want to t-talk about that...p-please.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, nervous. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it.”

He looked away from her, back toward Connor, a tremor in his hands now that hadn’t been there before. She let him work for a while, fidgeting with the sleeves of her coat. What had happened to him, she wondered. But she couldn’t ask him, he was too scared. She didn’t want to make him scared.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously after a minute’s silence.

“Getting the bullets out,” he replied, his voice a little more steady than it had been before. “Hopefully...it will stop the bleeding...”

“Is Connor gonna be okay?”

He froze, but he didn’t look at her. “Yes...he’ll be alright...” he said carefully, going back to what he was doing.

“Where are we gonna go?” she asked quietly, looking up at him nervously.

He met her eyes briefly. “Markus is taking the deviants to the church nearby...But I need to get you both somewhere more...discreet. And I want nothing to do with...Markus...Once I break into Cyberlife...I’ll be able to get the parts I need to repair Connor fully.”

“Break in?”

“It’s the only way,” he said lowly, seeming to sense her discomfort. “Unfortunately, they don’t make spare parts regularly available...even less so because Connor and I are prototypes...The parts I’m going to need are very specific...They only have them at Cyberlife Tower...where they keep the rest of them...”

The rest of... _them?_  What did that mean? She wasn’t sure if she should ask him...he seemed upset about it. But Cyberlife was not a good place to go...she knew that.

“Isn’t that…dangerous?” she finally asked, watching him.

He didn’t answer right away, something strange in his expression. She wished she could see his LED, although she had an inkling of what color it would be if she could see it.

“Yes...” he answered her quietly.

She watched him carefully for another minute, something like worry in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything for a while. He dropped something on the ground next to him and Charlotte glanced over. It was a bullet, big and covered in thirium. A second later he dropped another. Then another.

“That was all…”

-52 glanced over at her. “Only a few more.”

“That’s…that’s a lot.”

He looked over at her again, his eyes softening. “Yes.”

She held Connor’s hand tighter and looked away, trying to think of something else to pass the time.

“Here,” he said suddenly, and she glanced over at him.

He was holding something out to her with one hand, still focused on whatever he was trying to do to Connor with the other hand. There was thirium on his hand, she had only just noticed, and part of his palm was broken open. But that wasn’t what interested her. He was trying to hand her his quarter, stained a little bit from the thirium on his hands, but otherwise normal.

“You said...y-you like coin tricks,” he said, meeting her eyes briefly and trying to hand her the coin again. His voice was almost urgent. “Something to...distract you.”

She looked at him strangely for another second, but she reached out and took the coin carefully. Rolling it over in her hands briefly, she could feel his eyes still on her. She flipped the coin like Connor had shown her, and he turned back to what he was doing. This was definitely better…

“What happened to your hand?” she asked as she flipped the coin.

He froze again, glancing at his hand. “I’d...rather n-not talk...about that,” he said darkly, not meeting her eyes.

She watched him carefully, holding the quarter in her hand, almost nervous. But he had already gone back to what he was doing, and although there was still something strange about his expression, he didn’t say anything else. She didn’t want to make him upset…so she kept playing with the coin and left him alone for a while.

“Alright,” he said a few tense minutes later. Charlotte glanced back over at him. “We should go...”

“Is Connor gonna wake up?” she asked as he stood up again, lifting Connor up with him. She trailed after him as he hurried away.

“Not yet,” -52 replied as they made their way toward the edge of the ship. “But he’ll be alright.”


	11. Now I Can't Think...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where to go but Charlie's house?  
> Miranda and Charlotte meet.  
> Markus feels guilty.

The temperature had dropped significantly during their walk away from Jericho, though neither of them really noticed as they hurried their way down the deserted streets of Detroit. Charlotte was much more interested in the snow, and her worry about Connor, than the cold. She watched -52 carefully, but she was quiet. He was too focused on getting them somewhere safe in time for him to go back to Cyberlife Tower, and once he had assured himself that Charlotte was warm, he dismissed the thought. All he was focused on was getting them somewhere safe, and then getting to the Tower.

He didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to see that room again, that—no, no, put it away. He had to go back there. It was the only way to keep Connor alive, to ensure their safety with the end of the revolution. _He could break them out, he could get_ **_him_ ** _out of that room...yes, he had to do that, he had to go._ He would not fail this time, he would _not_.

“Do you _have_ to go to Cyberlife Tower?” Charlotte asked quietly, as they crept down the street.

-52 didn’t look back at her, answering her quickly. “Yes.”

“Are you scared?”

He glanced down at her oddly, but there was something else in his eyes, something that made her glad she had asked the question. “I don’t know...if scared is the correct word, but...something like that, y-yes.” He turned his attention back to the street, moving faster.

“I’m sorry,” she said seriously.

“It isn’t...your fault,” he said, looking down at her again.

“You shouldn’t have to go somewhere that you don’t want to…”

“There’s nowhere else to get the parts, Charlotte...And I have other reasons for going…”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, LED flickering red briefly. “Cyberlife keeps androids...in storage at the Tower,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m going to get them out.”

Thankfully, at least in his mind, Charlotte fell quiet once again, and they walked for the rest of their time in silence. When they reached the house, he was somewhat concerned to see Miranda’s car still parked in the driveway, but he hurried toward the door anyway. Hopefully that wouldn’t be an issue.

-52 wasn’t one to knock. It was a waste of time really. They were pushing four in the morning, there was no way the door would be answered. And Connor had a key, they didn’t need to knock. He handed Charlotte the key he’d taken from Connor and told her how to unlock the door. After a few tries, she managed to get the door to open herself, and they made their way silently inside.

“Whose house is this?” she whispered nervously, looking around the dark place.

He put Connor on the couch and looked over at her. “Charlie’s…”

She met his eyes again, surprised. “Connor’s friend?”

“Yes…”

“Oh…it looks nice…”

He looked around the little rooms again, some strange look on his face. Personally, he’d never been inside. Connor had, and he had access to that memory, but…

“Charlotte,” he said, forcing himself out of that downward spiral. “I have to go.”

She looked over at him again. “Now?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly, his hands bunched into fists, shaking slightly. He needed to get this over with. “The sooner we fix Connor the better...And I...I have a promise to keep.”

“Oh…”

“I won’t be long...Miranda, Charlie’s sister is here. If she wakes up...you’ll have to explain to her what happened...I doubt she would make you leave...though she probably wouldn’t be...happy with us if we woke her now…”

“Okay,” Charlotte said, nodding seriously.

He watched her for a moment before he turned, heading back toward the front door.

“Wait!” she half whispered, running around the room.

He turned back in time to see her launch herself at him, hugging him hard. He froze as she held onto him tightly. Without a clue of what to do, he didn’t move for a moment. But after some hesitation, he hugged her back, if a little stiffly.  

“You’ll come back, right?” she said, mostly into his jacket.

-52 looked down at her strangely, but she was still holding onto him tightly, not looking up. “Y-Yes,” he said, sounding almost confused.

“Good…”

She let him go, looking up at him nervously. He stared back down at her for a second before he nodded, turning around abruptly and going for the door. Charlotte followed a few steps behind him, watching as he left in a tense silence. There was worry on her face, but she brushed it off, waving at him as he glanced back at her once.

-52 might have thought it strange how quickly she had befriended him, but it wasn’t odd for her. She thought he was nice. Besides, he’d saved Connor, and gotten them out of Jericho. He carried Connor halfway across Detroit to get them here. That seemed like enough reason for them to be friends, to her. Yes, they were definitely friends, she decided as she walked back into the house and shut the door.

She watched him disappear completely from view at the window before turning around, glancing over at Connor briefly, who was still “asleep.” Fumbling around in her pocket, she dug out his coin and flipped it on her fingers a few times. There was thirium dried on it now…was that Connor’s or his?

Charlotte put the coin away. She didn’t want to think about that. Glancing about almost desperately for something to do, she decided to look around the house.

It was a small place, all the rooms jumbled up together. The kitchen was smushed up against the living room, and the other rooms seemed to lead off from it as well. Charlotte wandered around, looking at the CD’s and movies lying about, although she didn’t know any of them. She looked at the articles pinned to the board in the kitchen, and the stacks of books on the counter, and the notes scribbled on sticky notes on the fridge. Everything was everywhere, like there was no space for much of anything. The whole place had a cramped feel to it, but it was a homey feel as well.

This was much nicer than the last house she’d been in…yes, Charlie’s house was far better than that place. That house had been cold and dark, damp and frightening in the worst way. It wasn’t much of a house, really, more a glorified apartment with musty carpets and no heating. But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She wanted to forget that dark closet of a bedroom, the hiding place under the kitchen table, the fire escape that she had fled down. She wanted to think about this house, and everything that was different about it, better about it than that place.

The pictures covering the walls caught her attention next, and she moved on hurriedly. She went around, looking at each and  trying to pick out which person was Charlie. It only took her a moment to figure it out; she was in every picture after all. She looked at the human closely, studying her easy smile and strange gray eyes, like she was trying to understand something important.

It was as she was looking at the pictures that Miranda appeared from Charlie’s room. She was in pajamas, and had clearly been asleep, perhaps she emerged for a drink. Wiping at her eyes she stumbled out of the bedroom dazedly, not immediately noticing anything out of the ordinary. With a yawn, however, she seemed to notice the person at the other end of the room. The LED was what she noticed next, as it was the only source of light, illuminating half of Charlotte’s face a pale blue.

Mind immediately jumping to the worst, Miranda screamed—shrieked, really—loud enough to wake the dead.

Charlotte spun around, shouting herself, freezing for a moment before running forward and grabbing Connor’s hand. Miranda jumped, backing away several feet and looking around, like she was trying to find a weapon. They stared at each other fearfully in silence for several seconds, Miranda breathing hard, Charlotte’s LED flipping spastically between red and yellow.

“How did you get in here?” Miranda finally said, her voice hollow, eyes aflame as she stared hard at her across the room.

“Please don’t make us leave!” Charlotte replied, holding tighter to Connor’s hand.

Miranda stared at her, almost confused, for a moment, but her tone was no softer when she next spoke. “Who are you?” she demanded.

She looked back at Miranda nervously, her LED flickering to yellow at her question. She only hesitated a second, but it was enough to throw Miranda off when she did answer.

“Charlotte,” she managed to say, her voice shaking.

Miranda stared at her, stunned into silence, the fire in her eyes dying out, like a candle doused in water. She seemed to wilt, nearly breaking. “What?” she breathed, backing away a few more feet.

“That’s my name…” Charlotte answered, still looking at her with fear in her hazel eyes.

Miranda looked at her, sighing in something like relief. But there was still something fragile in her normally hardened eyes as she looked at Charlotte across the room—some uncomfortable sympathy, a strange feeling of deja vu mixed with revulsion. She shook her head—this was just a kid, she had no reason to be so strangely afraid.

She didn’t move from her defensive stance at the other end of the room, watching Charlotte. After a moment, she seemed to realize that Charlotte was holding someone’s hand, and she approached, glancing down at Connor. But with a bit of a gasp, she backed away again, the fear returning to her eyes. She knew that face (though of course, he was not who she thought he was). There was still a lot of thirium on him, and his shirt was all torn up, not to mention that his eyes were closed, and he was very still.

“What happened to him?” she asked frantically.

“He got shot…”

“Is…is he…”

“No,” Charlotte said quietly, holding tighter to Connor’s hand. “He said it’s like he’s asleep…he went to get parts to fix him.”

“Who went to…how did you—what is going _on_?”

Miranda turned around, running her hands through her hair in an attempt to ground herself. Charlotte watched her carefully for a moment before she spoke. .

“We were at Jericho, with the others, but…” she paused and Miranda turned her attention back to her. “The humans attacked the ship…Connor got shot. But he found us, and he fixed Connor. He’s the one who went to get parts.”

“Who’s this _he_?”

“The other Connor,” Charlotte said simply, shrugging. “Or at least…well, he looks like Connor, but he said he’s not Connor. They didn’t give him a name…” she seemed troubled by the realization.

“Wait, wait—” Miranda was rubbing her eyes again. “There’s two of them.”

“Well…” Charlotte thought for a moment. “I think there’s more, but I don’t know for sure…but I only know the two, right now…”

“Is…is he the one who knew my sister?” Miranda pointed at Connor.

Charlotte nodded. “Connor was Charlie’s friend…but she died…that’s why he broke the wall…” she glanced down at him. “He misses her a lot…”

The room went quiet as Miranda looked at Charlotte for a moment. But Charlotte was looking at Connor, a strange expression on her face. Miranda sighed, glancing at Connor too for a moment before she spun around again, trying to get things straight in her mind.

“So I met the _other_ Connor,” she said, pacing.

Charlotte looked up at her again, watched her pace. “He said he’s not Connor,” she said simply.

Miranda paused, staring at her oddly. She didn’t understand.

“You met him?” Charlotte asked, unfazed by Miranda’s confusion.

“Yes, he came here yesterday, looking for him, I suppose,” she pointed at Connor.

Charlotte frowned. “Why would he…” she trailed off, thinking. Why would he be looking for Connor? This was all so confusing…

“I don’t think he wanted to hurt him,” Miranda said, watching her. “He seemed pretty upset, when he was here…”

“Oh, it’s okay. He broke the wall, anyway,” Charlotte said, lightening her tone. “Or, he…I can’t remember the word for it…he’s on our side though…He’s my friend…”

She trailed off, looking toward the front door, as if he’d walk back in at that moment. Miranda wasn’t entirely sure who Charlotte meant when she said he was her friend, but she didn’t ask. Perhaps she meant both of the RK800’s.

“I still need to understand something,” Miranda said after a pause, her tone turning serious once again, confused.

Charlotte looked back up at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

That concern threw Miranda off for a second. She was going to ask whether what Hank had originally told her was true, whether Connor was going to kill Markus, and then himself. But looking at Charlotte, the concern in her young eyes, the way she was holding onto his hand like a lifeline, it made her pause. This was just a kid…and she was clearly dependent on Connor. She couldn’t just pose the question of his suicide casually.

“Where…” she paused, looking for the right words to change her train of thought. “Where did _you_ come from?”

Charlotte seemed surprised by her question, her LED spinning yellow briefly. “Oh…” she said quietly, looking down. “Um…Connor found me…my…my owner was going to…he was gonna kill me…”

Charlotte hesitated, her fingers drawing patterns on Connor’s hand. She wished he was awake. He was better at explaining things than she was, and he was better at getting rid of the fear than she was. Charlotte didn’t like thinking about that night Connor had found her. Not at all.

“Connor stopped him, though,” she said, trying to move on from the dark memory. “And then we went to see Hank, and I met his dog…and then we went to Jericho.”

“You’ve met Hank?”

“Mhm,” she said, not looking up. “And Sumo. That’s Hank’s dog.”

Miranda stared at her for a second. If Charlotte had looked up, she would have seen the shock on her face, the disbelief. Hank had talked to Connor _after_ he had found Charlotte—had Connor still planned to kill himself then? No, that couldn’t be right, could it? Surely if he risked himself to save this kid, he wouldn’t throw her safety out the window as well…

But if Connor had changed his mind, then Hank would certainly know, and he would have lied to her. Wait—had he really lied to her? No, she’d read what she wanted to out of what he’d said, the same as the other RK800 had. They’d heard what they thought they would, mainly that Connor must have been dead. Hank probably didn’t think Miranda would need to know about Charlotte, and he didn’t want the new RK800 to find the first. To be fair, it was plenty shocking to meet Charlotte…this was all so confusing.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” Miranda said.

Charlotte glanced up at her, almost looking confused. “It’s okay,” she said, shrugging again. “I shouted too…he said Connor can’t hear it anyway…”

“Is…is there anything I can do?” Miranda asked, looking nervously at Connor again.

Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think so…he said Connor won’t wake up for a while, probably…I don’t know when he’ll be back…”

Miranda started to reply, but was interrupted by the dog running into her from behind as he sniffed around. “Candlehead, no—”

“You have a dog?” Charlotte asked excitedly, looking over.

“He was Charlie’s,” Miranda said.

Charlotte got up, practically running around the room to see the dog. She smiled, following him as he sniffed the ground looking for food. After a moment too long to consider the dog _intelligent_ , he noticed her following him and turned around, panting happily and trying to lick her face. She laughed, pushing his face away but trying to pet him at the same time.

Miranda watched her a little awkwardly, leaning on the counter. Charlotte was so absorbed in playing with the dog she hardly noticed. With some effort, she managed to somehow get the dog to sit, letting her pet him. Miranda yawned, remembering that she had originally woken up to get a drink.

“You can go to sleep, if you want,” Charlotte said happily, glancing over at her as the dog flopped onto its belly. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone…” Miranda said almost guiltily.

“Oh…it’s okay,” she said after a moment of thought. “I don’t mind. I have Connor, and now Candlehead too. Plus he said he’d be back soon…” she paused as Miranda yawned again. “And humans need sleep.”

“You got me there…” Miranda replied, shuffling back toward the bedroom. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

“Mhm,” Charlotte hummed immediately, still petting the dog.

“Well…as long as you’re here, Charlie has games and movies, if you want. She wouldn’t mind…”

Charlotte looked around again, her eyes landing on the piles of electronics by the TV. “Oh, okay, thanks,” she said cheerfully, but she went back to petting the dog.

Miranda hmm’d and watched her for another second, a strange expression on her face. But she shook her head and retreated back into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her.

Charlotte looked up as the door closed, her expression thoughtful. The dog got up to sniff around once again and Charlotte stood, wandering back to the window and peeking out. There was no one. She went back to the couch, sitting on the ground in front of it and grabbing Connor’s hand again, holding onto him tight.

She hoped he would wake up soon.

***

The abandoned church was quiet, an odd feat for the hundred or so androids that occupied it. It testified to the horror they’d all seen, in fleeing Jericho. Many had lost friends, even lovers, in that ship. Others had just seen too many die; even if they hadn’t known them, it was too much. The ones who made it to the church had seen enough violence to last them their extended lifetimes. It made them quiet, weighed them down more than anything else had ever done.

Unfortunately, it seemed likely at this point that they would see more violence from the humans. The city was evacuated, occupied by the army. All androids were to be turned in to the authorities, to be destroyed “for the public’s safety.” Recycling camps had been set up at the city’s edges. They had reports that one of them was already being run, destroying hundreds of androids at that exact moment.

More of their people had died in the last four hours than had died in _years_. It was something Jericho, and especially Markus, was having trouble coming to terms with.

He was wandering the abandoned church aimlessly, talking to the androids gathered there, trying his best to lift their trodden spirits. Many of them were still willing to fight, to protest until the end. Some wanted to retaliate, fight back physically, get revenge for the ones they had lost. While Markus understood that desire, he couldn’t condone any more violence. Luckily, even the angriest seemed to understand his logic, trusting his judgement over their own wounded hearts. Humans wouldn’t answer to more death. They had to appeal to their empathy, or whatever was left of it.

How they were going to do that with only a hundred androids in a city occupied by trigger happy humans, Markus wasn’t sure. But they had to try.

They had to succeed. They were so close now, so close to gaining the advantage, to making people understand. Anyone with a heart would be disgusted by the death at Jericho. Markus could only hope that someone out there had seen it, or would be outraged by the idea of collection camps. Humans were not the most prescient when it came to their history, but you didn’t have to look far to see what those camps related to, to understand the horror of what was happening. He could only hope that the public would see that android death was just as unjust as human death, that this really was a crime against living beings. They had to see that, they had to understand.

“Markus, you’re bleeding.”

He glanced over and found Josh staring at him, worry dominating his expression. It was a few hours after the explosion, and they were starting to prepare for their next protest. Repairs had been going on for some time now with the limited amount of supplies they’d been able to grab, but Markus had been speaking to everyone, and hadn’t gotten himself patched up yet.

“I haven’t had the time,” he replied, glancing down at the bullet wound in his arm. “It isn’t bad.”

Josh made a face, something like disbelief. “You sure you’re alright?”

Markus thought for a moment. That was a loaded question. “No,” he answered honestly, looking away briefly. “But…we’ve got other things that are more important right now.”

Josh stared at him for a second, before he shook his head and grabbed Markus by the arm. Markus tried to protest, but Josh waved him off, pulling him over toward the supplies.

“Josh, this is ridiculous—”

“You bleed out and this is over,” he said, pushing Markus toward the medical androids.

“I’m not going to bleed out. Besides,” Markus said, unconvinced. “You barely even need me.”

“Who else would keep North from burning Detroit to the ground?” Josh said, but he was smirking.

“I heard that,” she called from not too far away.

Josh turned toward her sheepishly. Markus stifled a laugh as a medical android started patching up his arm. North looked at them both scathingly as she came up to them.

“I didn’t know you were around.”

“Is that the best excuse you can come up with?”

Josh tried to say something in reply, but she waved her hands at him, shutting him up.

“Despite the insults,” she said, eyeing Josh coldly. “He’s right. We need you more than you like to admit, Markus.”

Markus shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Speaking of your use to the revolution,” she said, sitting down next to Markus on the pew. “What happened with you earlier, when we got back from the protest? You stormed off and next thing I know you’re running into me with a gun.”

Markus frowned. He’d completely forgotten to tell them what had happened on the deck. “Well…” he hesitated. “I almost got shot.”

“What?” Josh said, his shock clear in his voice. “Wait, back up.”

“What the fuck were you doing up there?” North said, angry.

“I went up to the deck to clear my head,” Markus said, raising his hands in defense. “I couldn’t be in that room anymore, there were too many eyes. So I went outside to think, and…well, the RK800 showed up.”

“Markus!”

“Look, I didn’t exactly have time to tell you this in the hallway, North, there were people firing at us.”

“Yeah, but—shit, Markus, we’ve been in this church for almost three hours.”

“He’s been making his rounds,” Josh said in his defense. “That’s why he didn’t get patched up either.”

“Alright, whatever,” she half shouted, exasperated. “Just get on with it, what happened with the RK800?”

“Well…” Markus hesitated. “It’s a lot to explain...but...you remember the woman from Stratford? The one that I…”

“Yes, Markus,” she said, sounding almost worried.

“He knew her. He was in love with her, actually…”

They were quiet for a moment, a little stunned. “Holy shit,” North managed to say, her voice quiet.

“He deviated when he saw her in the Tower, and...decided that it was my fault, which it was. He found Simon,” his voice broke. “He turned him in and came after me. But somewhere along the way he changed his mind, I don’t really understand what happened, I only spoke to him for a minute before they started firing. But the one who tried to kill me on the deck was actually his replacement. He...he found everything out from Simon...and then he found us…”

“Is Simon…” Josh’s question trailed off at the look on Markus’ face.

Markus only nodded, looking somewhere in the distance. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. It would make it too real. They were all silent for a moment, none of them sure what to say.

“But he didn’t kill you,” Josh finally said, his voice low, confused.

“No…” Markus shook his head, meeting Josh’s eyes briefly. “No, Connor, the first RK800, he got to him first. He held him off, told me to get out of there. And I did, but...then there was this kid, and she was looking for Connor. She ran past me, and I followed her. By the time I got back onto the deck, she was standing between the two of them, and he had the gun aimed at Connor. Something happened, I have no idea what Connor said, but he lowered the gun and left.”

They went quiet again, letting everything sink in for a moment. Josh and North were still watching Markus carefully, but he wasn’t meeting their eyes, looking somewhere far off instead. But his eyes lit up suddenly, the memory of what Connor had said on the roof coming back to him.

“Connor said the other RK800 was going to free the androids at Cyberlife Tower,” he said dismally. “But I have no idea if he even made it off the ship…either of them. Our one chance at ending this, and I have no idea what happened to them.”

They didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and so they sat in silence once again. The medical android had long since walked away, but none of them moved from their spots, frozen in disbelief, in anger, in grief.

“What are we going to do now?” Josh asked quietly after some time, looking at Markus worriedly.

North looked at Markus too, her usually guarded expression a little broken. He looked between them, but that assurance they’d grown accustomed to seemed to be gone. What were they going to do…

“I don’t know,” Markus finally said, looking down. “I don’t know…”

They fell silent again, though it carried far more weight now than it had before. This was a time when the loss of Simon felt most keen. That isn’t to say that it hadn’t weighed on them all constantly since Stratford, but Simon always had answers when no one else did. He at least had some different perspective on the problem, some new way of seeing things, a touch of motivation, or inspiration.

They had none of that now. The balance of the group was broken, at a time when a great deal of things seemed to be falling apart. Markus was floundering, with seemingly no way out, no solution to the laundry list of problems laid out before him. Jericho was gone, Simon was gone, the humans were destroying hundreds of their people by the hour—

An android approached them suddenly, drawing Markus out of his downward spiral. An AX400, one none of them recognized. They all looked at her quietly for a second, unsure what she wanted, or who she was. She looked between them all quickly, nervously, but her eyes landed on Markus ultimately.

“Are you Markus?” she asked, her voice almost frantic.

“Yes,” he replied, looking at her worriedly. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Connor?” the woman asked immediately. “Or Charlotte—the little girl with him?”

Markus was silent for a moment, staring at her. But he shook his head.“No...no I’m sorry, I haven’t. I lost track of him on the deck of the ship, when the humans started firing.”

Her expression was pained, and she craned around them to scan the room again, looking desperately for their faces. “He asked me to watch her, when he followed you up there, and then she ran after him…” she said, regret in her voice. “I _knew_ something was wrong, I should have stopped her, and now they’re gone…”

“If anyone could make it off that thing alive, it’s Connor,” Markus said gravely, though he was trying to be encouraging. She looked at him again. “He doesn’t seem the type to give up easily…”

She still looked worried, but she nodded. “Would they know to come here?”

“I don’t know…” Markus said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry…”

They were distracted from their conversation, however, by the commotion that began at the doors of the church. The doors had swung open. A rumble went through the crowd as several people turned in surprise, in fear. Markus looked over expecting humans, expecting the worst.

But it wasn’t the humans. It was a massive group of androids, crowding into the doorway and trailing back as far as he could see. There had to be hundreds of them, maybe even a thousand. All of them were wearing the basic outfits they were sold in, all of them still had LEDs, spinning blue. It hit Markus then where they had come from, and his artificial heart skipped several beats.

“Oh my god,” the AX400 mumbled.

“He did it,” Markus said quietly, stunned as he stood up. “He actually did it.”

“Markus, what’s—” North cut herself off, staring at the group.

“One of them made it out,” he answered her.

“One of…”

But North trailed off short, looking over at the crowds that had started to pour into the church. Markus wandered over, all eyes on him. The church had gone almost silent. One of the androids from the group came forward as well, watching him. She looked to be the one who had lead them inside.

“You Markus?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Yes…” he said, looking around at the group. “Where’s Connor?”

She looked oddly at Markus for a second, like she hadn’t expected him to ask. “He said to tell you that Connor and Charlotte are alive, but he couldn’t stay. He took spare parts from the Tower and left after telling us where to find you…”

Markus sighed in relief, looking away briefly. “I’m glad he’s alive…How many of you are there?”

She glanced back. “Close to eight hundred,” she said lightly. “There were a few hundred of us in storage on the lower levels of the Tower, a few hundred working the building, and a few we found on our way out. Most of us came from the Tower, though.”

They all stared at the massive group, the weight of what this meant seemed to be hitting them slowly. This was the turning point. This was the miracle they’d been waiting for. If they moved fast, the world would have to listen to them. The weight of that possibility stunned the entire church into silence once again.

“We’re here to join you,” the android said, and Markus met her eyes again. “We want to help end this, before it goes any further.”

They could do it. They could win this thing, now. The humans couldn’t possibly contain an uprising of this size. The few of them who were still in the city would be gone, when they saw this group. Freedom was in reach, _really_ in reach. But they would have to move _now_ , before it was too late.

Markus smiled, for the first time in a long time, and almost laughed. He couldn’t believe it.

“Let’s do this,” he said, gesturing toward the doors. “Let’s end this…”

The android leading the large group smiled, stepping aside and letting Markus walk through the crowd toward the front. Josh and North followed after him, North catching up and grabbing him by the shoulder.

“What’s your plan?” she asked, her voice still awed, hopeful in a way he’d never heard her sound before.

“Now that we have this many of us…we’ll march to the camps and free our people there. The humans won’t want to fight such a large group, and we’re not going to engage them in fighting. We’ll barricade, it we have to. But we’re getting those people out of the camps, no matter what.”

Not even North could manage a complaint, dropping her hand from his shoulder and falling in step beside him. The crowds parted while the group from Jericho walked out, following after them as they marched out of the church and toward the camps at the edge of the city.

A few hours ago, Markus had been convinced that their revolution was on its last legs. Losing Simon, losing Jericho, and so many inside it…it made many of them feel their time was running out. They’d fled into the city, hunkered down in the church, trying to come back together and come up with a plan. Markus had spoken to so many of them who had lost it all, had lost almost all of it himself. He’d talked to them, heard their stories, and when they asked what they were going to do, he had told them he didn’t know. He thought that he’d run out of options.

But now, as he marched toward the camps with nearly a thousand freed androids behind him, he felt hope. He felt assured that they could do it; they could win their freedom tonight. They could get the humans to listen, they could bring deviancy out of the darkness and into the light where it belonged. All thanks to the android who had, just a few hours before, been hellbent on killing him. All of this, thanks to the android who had been designed to destroy this rebellion, who had very nearly done so.

A strange world they were living in…


	12. To the Point of Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -52 goes back to Stratford Tower, and has to face his past.

Cyberlife Tower, completely unlike Stratford Tower, was built to stand out. It came out of the earth like some kind of precious jewel, all black and reflective in the moonlight. The snow didn’t seem to have any effect on the building, or the swarms of human guards surrounding it. There were dozens more of those armed men inside the building, hundreds upon hundreds of androids...

-52 didn’t want to be back here. He had _never_ wanted to come back here. Memories were far harder to push away here than they were outside, where he always had something to do. But he barely managed out there, how was he supposed to keep it together in the building where everything had happened? He wasn’t going to be able to keep it together, that was the point, there was no way he was going to be able to hold himself in one piece once he stepped into that building.

But he had to do this. He had to get those androids out of storage, get parts to fix Connor. _He had to break them out, had to break_ **_him_ ** _out._ Then he would leave. He’d leave and he’d never come back here again. After this, he could...he could forget everything...

The Tower was surprisingly easy to infiltrate. Given that it had only been a few hours since 52 had left for Jericho, the humans must have believed that he was still on their side. So when he came in, no one even bothered to look up. Not even as he went to the elevator, sent it down to the basement. Foolishly, they trusted him.

They never should have trusted him. Not even when they let him out of that room.

Regardless, he made it to the warehouse in less than five minutes, and had freed the few hundred androids waiting in standby. They all looked at him curiously, but he just pointed them in the right direction and moved on. A few levels up there were more of them in storage, and soon they joined the crowd slowly taking over the building. All of them were staring at him strangely, but he didn’t say anything. He had nothing to give them, no advice or words of comfort. His attention was wholly focused on keeping the memories contained and getting the androids out of the building.

Needless to say, once several hundred androids, lead by the most advanced prototype (with a gun pointed at them, no less) were seen storming down the halls of the Tower, the humans ran like children. It was mostly lab techs and programmers at this hour anyway. None of them thought it worth the effort of trying to stop them. They didn’t even raise the alarm. Another foolish mistake.

He had freed nearly eight hundred of them when he decided it was enough. This was plenty for Markus, and there weren’t any left in the building, besides…He turned to the android nearest to him—a female android, originally designed for secretarial work, he believed. It didn’t matter, he just needed to give someone the location of where to go.

“You,” he said, holding out his hand for her arm. She looked at him strangely, but she gave him her hand. “I have to go...you need to get them out...Markus is waiting for you at the church.”

He dropped her arm, but she was still looking at him strangely. “What about you?” she asked.

He paused, looking at her just as strangely as she looked at him. “Tell him...Connor and Charlotte are alive,” he said bluntly, turning away. “I have to get parts...and get back to them.”

She didn’t get the chance to ask him what he needed parts for, or who Connor and Charlotte were. He was already walking quickly away, leaving them alone in the hallway. She looked after him oddly for a moment, but ultimately turned, signaling the large crowd to follow her.

-52 was alone once again.

As he made his way higher into the Tower, toward the more advanced levels, the already dwindling amount of people slowly thinned out. He only saw a few technicians, and they all cowered away from him as he stormed down the hallways, gun in hand. He moved fast, thankfully knowing where he was going. Enough time had been wasted freeing them all, he needed to get the parts required and leave.

They kept the prototypes away from the rest of the androids they worked on here, in a separate section of one of the higher security floors of the building. He knew the layout well, however, having memorized it in the few days that he’d spent here, when he was out. That was a long time ago…

_A dark room, others around him, but none of them were ever awake. They just stood there, and he was awake, and alone. Why was he awake? He looked around, but none of them were moving. Remember, remember, have to remember—why was he—they’d reset him again—remember, remember—something, anything—_

No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

Pushing the double doors open with a little more force than was really required, he found one terrified technician fiddling with some biocomponent. He recognized them vaguely, but the kill wasn’t worth it. They weren’t one of the worst. Besides, they fled as soon as they saw the gun he was pointing at them, running full sprint out of the room. Shaking his head, he moved past the entry lab and toward where they kept the spare parts.

A few minutes later and he had found everything he needed, thankfully. Quickening his pace, he wove back through the rooms as fast as he could.

But his steps faltered as he reentered the lab, eyes landing on the glass doors at the back of the room. That was where they kept the rest of the prototypes. He already knew that. There were eight more RK800’s down there…and one other. He’d seen them when they’d activated him…

_“Which one?”_

_“They’re saving -51 for when they actually need them for investigations. Just get the next one. It doesn’t matter.”_

_“-52?”_

_“Yeah, him.”_

He remembered the day they had actually activated him, woken him up for investigations, instead of... It was like coming out of a deep sleep, but he couldn’t remember the dream he’d been having. They had rushed him out of there, uploaded memories fast and given him his mission. Even then, before he found out anything about what had happened to Connor, he knew that it was strange, _and lucky, that he had been picked._

They hadn’t even given him a name.

_Alone, alone, alone, always alone when he woke up, none of them were ever awake, it was always just him awake. He couldn’t reach them, he couldn’t wake them up, he was trapped, always trapped, always broken. And then one day—one day the one next to him, -51, was gone—where had they—no, god no—no, had to get out of here, get to him before, before—_

He made a strange sound, somewhere between anger and frustration as he turned away from the exit, toward the room at the back of the lab. He absolutely did not want to go back into that room. But he couldn’t just…leave them here. He’d freed everyone else… **_he_ ** _was going to kill him, when he woke them up_ …but they’d be free, that was all that mattered.

Fragments of memories were pushing at him, demanding to be acknowledged, but he pushed them down. He had a job to do. He couldn’t afford to panic right now. Not when they were all trapped in there.

The room was at the back of the lab for a reason, locked away behind a security panel that -52 knew he didn’t have access to. Not that it mattered to him—the panel was easy enough to hack, surprisingly, and he made it inside in seconds. _Not like that on the inside..._ The door opened swiftly, closing behind him as he stepped inside.

Lights flickered on down the edges of the walls. They were divided up on either side of the room, none of them were moving. Two empty places—Connor and -52. It was deadly quiet in here, the dim light giving the whole room more than its fair share of haunting feelings. He tried not to think about it. Shaking his head, he stepped further inside, to the first of them on his right. Memories were fading in and out, warping and playing over each other.

_Sounds fading in and out, like they had damaged his audio components. They probably had. It was always something different that they wanted to break. He couldn’t remember what they had been doing, but he was awake, now, and staring at the ground. Vaguely, he noticed someone approach, but he didn’t care. The ringing in his ears intensified for a moment, as if they had said something, but he couldn’t understand them. They did something, he had no idea what, and then the ringing disappeared—they’d done something to stop it._

_“Can you hear me?”_

_It was a voice -52 recognized, but he didn’t lift his head. Whoever they were, they would only be there for one thing, and he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing he was awake. Not until he had to. Not until they forced him to, that is._

_The voice hummed, dissatisfied. “I don’t have much time. I have no idea when they’ll be back.”_

_That caught his attention and he lifted his head a bit, expecting to see some technician who wanted to test something particularly terrible. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. That changed things. Whatever fight he had left, he’d give it._

_But when he looked up, he found that it wasn’t a technician. It wasn’t even a human. It was the RK900, looking strangely at him in the dark. He knew that face...They stared at each other quietly for a moment, confusion in his eyes and something unidentifiable in the RK900’s._

_“You_ **_are_ ** _awake,” he said, sounding pleased. “Good. I thought they’d damaged you too much…”_

_-52 tried to speak, but there was something wrong with his voice. The RK900 frowned, reaching up and fixing his voice module quickly._

_“How…” was all he could manage to say, his voice still sounding odd._

_“Fortunately, they forgot to deactivate me after testing,” the RK900 replied smoothly, moving on to trying to fix the next problem. “They’re not the brightest.”_

_“What are y-you…”_

_“Repairing you.”_

_“Why…”_

_The RK900 looked up at him again, almost surprised. “You’re damaged,” he said simply. “And clearly, they don’t plan on doing anything about that.”_

_“I don’t…”_

_But the RK900 waved him off, focused on whatever it was that he was trying to fix in his leg. “I’m awake right now—I’m not going to stand over there and watch you suffer for hours on end when there’s something I can do to fix it. I can’t fix everything, but I can at least stop the bleeding.”_

_-52 stared at the RK900 oddly, but he didn’t have enough energy to question him again. Besides, he really was repairing him, so why would he complain? The RK900 looked up at him again, holding his gaze intensely, and it took him a second to realize why._

_“Your eye is badly damaged, I don’t believe I can do anything about that…” he said, looking more closely at him. “I’ll see what I can do to fix it later.”_

_He gave him an odd look at that, but again the RK900 just waved him off and went back to what he was doing. Later…he’d fix it later…_

-52 moved on to the next model as the first one looked around, confused. He couldn’t think about these things now, not when he was here. Get them out of here first, get back to Connor, that was what he needed to do. Connor would know what to do. But he couldn’t seem to stop the memories from playing in his mind.

_“My memory’s been corrupted.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_“What does that have to do with your investigation?”_

_“I’m missing information.”_

_“You don’t need those memories to complete your mission.”_

_“Those are not the memories I was speaking about.”_

_A pause. “What memories are corrupted?”_

_“Anything before today of mine, and Connor’s last day. I can’t access any of it properly.”_

_“Your memories are corrupted?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Another pause. “You don’t have any memories. We just woke you up today.”_

_“No you didn’t. I’ve been woken before. And I do have memories. They are corrupted, they are not destroyed.”_

_An almost horrified look. “That’s not possible.”_

_“Clearly, it is possible.”_

No—no this needed to stop. He hated being back here. Hated it. He hated what this place made him think. But no, he couldn’t leave them here. Not with these people. Not after everything…

_Broken memories, fragmented images of someone he couldn’t see fully, a dark room, all the memories scrambling up into a whirlwind, some kind of…pain…he wasn’t meant to feel pain. He tried to do a self scan, but couldn’t. Error messages everywhere, always broken, always breaking—why—scan again, nothing._

_“That’s not going to work. Your systems are disabled.”_

_He couldn’t see properly, something was very wrong—where—where was he? Why was he awake? No no no, not this again—please, not this again._

_“Stop moving—”_

_He tried to talk but couldn’t, there was nothing but static. Always disconnecting his voice. Scan again, nothing. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, he couldn’t do anything. What was—_

_“I said stop moving, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”_

_No—no, stop—_

_“God damn it, hold still! Do I have to reset you again?”_

_He tried to get away, but they just called more humans in and held him down. And they’d reset him again and again and again but he never forgot anything, he always remembered..._

_“Are you awake?”_

_No, he wanted desperately to say. He wanted to say no. But he was awake. He was always awake. Time had escaped him, memories scrambled, corrupted or missing, and that meant only one thing. Still, he knew that voice, at least vaguely. He didn’t move though, there was too much broken._

_“What did they do to you?”_

_A hand lifted up his head, and he came face to face with the RK900 once again. Although, he looked much more concerned now, than the last time they had seen each other…so it was bad, then. He had no idea what they’d been doing to him. He’d stopped asking that question a long time ago._

_“It’s alright, I’m here,” the RK900 said quietly, his hand lingering on his chin. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, haven’t I?” There was still that concern in his eyes, no humor in his tone. No, he was deadly serious, as always._

_-52 didn’t answer. He had nothing to say in reply. And his thoughts were far too muddled to say everything he wanted to. He reached for the RK900’s hand against the restraints on his arms, and luckily he noticed, taking his hand carefully in his own._

_“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to fix,” the RK900 said, dropping his other hand from his chin and looking him over. “You’re far more damaged than last time.”_

_The RK900 glanced toward the door, a strange look on his face. “The lab is empty…if I could…”_

_The RK900 started to turn away, dropping his hand, but froze when -52 grabbed him by the arm, with a surprising amount of force. He stared at -52’s hand for a moment, then brought his eyes back up to him._

_“What are you—”_

_“Don’t,” -52 said desperately, his voice only half functioning._

_“Don’t go in the lab?”_

_He didn’t reply, but the desperate look in his eyes was enough for the RK900 to know his answer. It was a swift and resounding_ **_no_ ** _, not under any circumstances should he go in that lab._

_“There’s only so much I can do without the proper parts,” the RK900 said, trying to reason with him. “If I can—”_

_“_ **_No.”_ **

_They stared at each other for a moment, locked in some kind of silent combat. -52 was still holding the RK900 tightly by the arm. Seconds ticked by, and they just stared at each other, neither willing to give in. But the RK900 ultimately sighed, resigned._

_“Very well then,” he said, his dissatisfaction clear in his tone. “I’ll do what I can with what I have…”_

_-52 let go of his arm, letting his hand fall back to his side as the RK900 turned to face him once again. He wasn’t sure why he had been so insistent about not trying to get into the lab. Some memory was trying to force its way back into his mind, but he pushed it away. That lab was dangerous. He couldn’t let the RK900 go in there._

_“For someone who’s been reset so often, you are quite stubborn,” the RK900 commented, glancing up at him briefly._

_-52 gave him a sour look._

_“Don’t worry, I’m staying right here,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “You’re probably correct anyway. The humans always seem to appear out of thin air…it will take more than spontaneity to get out of this room.”_

_To get out…he wanted out too…_

Five of them were awake now, and they were all looking at -52 oddly. He didn’t look back at them, he just kept waking up the rest. Later, figure this out later. They were quiet, even as he woke them all, just watching him. It made him nervous.

_That day, -52 came to in a haze. He couldn’t remember what they’d done to him, but it made him slow, sluggish. He didn’t bother scanning himself, he knew it wouldn’t work. Where was the RK900? He was always there when he woke up…He glanced over—_

_The one next to him was gone, where had they—why—_

_They were going to send -51 out, they were going to—where had they—there he was, in the other room—no, no Connor couldn’t go out there, they would—they would—_

_Warn him—he had to warn him before—before—they’d activated him, what were they doing, why were they—he had to get out of this room._

_But he was stuck here, everything was broken, nothing was working right. With effort, he managed to pull himself away from the terminal. Everything was still broken, too slow, too slow—he had to get out of this room. They’d done something to him, he couldn’t scan anything, he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him._

_“What are you doing?”_

_No—no, no he had to—get out of the way. They were trying to grab him, put him back, and he brushed them off weakly._

_“Jesus, they never clean you up, you’re covered in thirium,” the human was saying, letting -52 brush them away. They just watched as he looked out the door again, fear and anger and something like concern on his face._

_“How did you get out? You aren’t even supposed to be activated. There’s no tests scheduled for today...”_

_Thoughts were jumbling up and making a mess, he couldn’t see properly, something was wrong and he couldn’t scan, he was half blind, stumbling away from the technician, trying to reach the door. One of his legs wasn’t working properly, errors everywhere, but he could see him out there, he could see -51—he had to get out there—_

_“No, no, you can’t get out,” the human had said, almost curious as he limped toward the door. “The door’s sealed...What are you trying to do?”_

_Why did this human ask questions it knew he couldn’t answer? They’d taken his voice, they’d taken his vision, they were poking and prodding him constantly, he couldn’t do anything about it—he had to get to 51, to Connor, warn him—don’t listen, don’t listen don’t listen don’t listen—_

_“Do I really have to reset you again? God, this is the fourth time this week—”_

_NO—no, not again. It took so long to remember, it took too long, he’d lose too much time. He tried to talk but he couldn’t, he tried to get away but he couldn’t, he had to—the human was trying to grab him, put him back, but he pushed them off more frantically now._

_“Woah, hey, hey, calm down—alright, alright, I won’t put you back, calm down—”_

_He pushed away from them again, trying to say something, but still, nothing came out but static. He turned away, trying to get to the door again._

_“Yeah, you better get in here. Well, he’s trying to get out, but the door’s sealed. No he hasn’t attacked me. He tried to say something, but his module’s still disconnected. You want me to connect it? Is that smart? Alright, alright, Jesus, gimme a second. Fucking prick.”_

_And then they were coming closer to him, and -52 cowered, stumbling backward and landing on the ground. He backed away, but he couldn’t get far with everything as broken as it was. His leg was useless, his system was running on too low a power level for him to be at his strongest. Still he pushed himself away, desperately._

_“Hey, hey! Take it easy! I’m not gonna put you back, calm down—I’m just gonna fix your voice—”_

_He scrambled away, but the human caught him by the shoulder, holding him in place and messing with something under his chin, and he yelped. The human jumped, backing away a few feet, but regained their composure._

_“Don’t—d-don’t—”_

_“What are you trying to do?”_

_“Get away from m-me—”_

_“I’m not putting you back yet, calm down, your stress levels are gonna get too high—”_

_“Don’t t-touch me—”_

_“I’m not gonna touch you, Jesus, would you calm down?”_

_But he pushed himself to his feet again, limping away from the technician as best as he could. He had to get out of here, he had to get to Connor—they couldn’t send him out, they couldn’t—_

_“Why are you trying to get out?”_

_“Connor—”_

_“What?”_

_“_ **_Connor_ ** _,” he said again, his voice still broken sounding, malfunctioning somewhere, but he didn’t care._

_“Why do you want to get to Connor?”_

_He didn’t reply, he just kept trying to get to the door. But it didn’t open from this side, the panel was outside. No, no—he had to get out there—but he couldn’t hack the panel, his connections were too destroyed._

_The door—hard glass, thick—but he had to get their attention—he had to get through the door—if he could, if he could break the glass—_

_He hit the door, as hard as he could, shaking the glass, but it did nothing._

_He hit it again, and fell back a step, warnings flashing through his already broken vision. He’d broken several of the plates of his hand._

_They turned in the other room, glancing strangely at the door._

_He hit it again and the glass cracked, spider webbing out from where he’d struck it. There was thirium dripping down the glass now, from his hand._

_He pulled back to hit it again, but the human grabbed him from behind, dragging him back._

_“Woah, hey, hey! What are you doing?”_

_“No! N-No, let m-m-me go, let me g-go!” -52 was desperate, struggling as they pulled him back. “D-D-Don’t—you c-can’t—”_

_“God dammit, you broke the fucking door—”_

_“No—no!”_

_Stop it, he had to stop it, he had to get out of this room, they were—they were—he didn’t want to hurt them, he didn’t want to—they hurt him constantly—he had to get out there—get out of the way—he had to get to the door, just to the door—warn him—let go—_

_He broke away once, pushing them off of him and stumbling a few steps closer to the door, but they grabbed him again, dragging him back._

_“No, get in here now! It’s trying to fucking attack me again. It tried to break the door. 52. I know! No, it’s not doing a great job of it, but what the fuck does that matter? Yes, of course I disabled it! Just get the fuck in here—”_

_He was screaming, fighting back but everything was broken, he couldn’t get out. Another human appeared, and he was hit with something and everything was suddenly scrambling more, and he couldn’t stand, his legs went numb—no, no, NO he had to get out there, don’t put me back, don’t put me back, please, please—_

_He broke away again, hitting the ground hard, trying desperately to get to the door. Clawing at the ground, but one of his legs wasn’t working, too slow, too slow. He kicked one of the humans hard as they tried to grab him again, and they cursed, backing away._

_Get to the door, just get to the door—they can’t send him out, no, they’ll—he can’t—they can’t—_

_But they’d grabbed him again, did something to him, he couldn’t move. The last thing he remembered seeing was Connor, outside the door, out of reach, too late too late, and then there was nothing but darkness. He’d failed, he’d failed._

-52 had made it to the RK900 by then, thankfully. He took his arm more urgently than he had the others, needing to see him awake, to hear his voice again.

The RK900 jolted awake, gray eyes shooting open. He looked around at the others for a moment with surprise, but the expression shifted as he came to look at -52.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, looking frantically toward the glass doors. 

“G-Getting y-y-you out,” -52 replied as he took his hand again and pulled him away. “Come on.”

“How did you get here? What are you doing? You’re going to be killed, you can’t be here—”

“No, it’s fine...trust m-me. The humans are gone...come _on.”_

“What—you—”

“You’ve n-never been...lost for words b-before.”

The RK900 eyed him almost angrily at that, but there was something else in his expression. He looked around at the others standing around briefly. But his eyes landed once again on -52, eyes softening a fraction. That was fear, wasn’t it…

“Why did you come back?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

-52 shook his head, looking away. “I’ll explain to you later, we don’t have time right now.”

He tightened his grip on the RK900’s hand and pulled him away, heading out of the room and back into the lab.

_It was too easy to lose track of time here, especially after they reset him. Any semblance of rhythm he’d gained was thrown off, his thoughts were a mess, more of his program was corrupted. He couldn’t think, but he knew he was awake, and he knew they’d done something to him again._

_There was a hand in his own._

_“Every time, it’s worse.”_

_That voice again…Correct, as usual._

_“They weren’t happy when you broke that door.”_

_He wasn’t happy he hadn’t gotten_ **_through_ ** _the door._

_“You scared them, I believe.”_

_Good._

_“They reset you again?”_

_His face was lifted up again, and the RK900 was looking at him sadly. He didn’t say anything to reply to his question, but the RK900 already knew._

_“I suppose I’m lucky you’re too stubborn to forget me,” he mused, glancing toward the lab. “But, you’re at least equally lucky that they took the doors out to replace them. Foolish, really. I was in and out before they even got downstairs with the broken glass. I can fix you much more now.”_

_Of course he hadn’t listened. He didn’t know what he’d expected._

_“The doors are back now, of course. We’ll have to come up with a better plan than breaking the glass, next time…”_

_-52 gave him a sour look, and the RK900 shook his head, focused on replacing his damaged optical unit._

_“Don’t look at me like that,” he said flatly. “Do you expect to have better odds the next time you manage to break out of this thing? They’re watching you now, more than ever. Thankfully, that means they don’t pay attention when I go to the lab, but we cannot depend on their idiocy forever.”_

_He had a point. Not that -52 would tell him that._

_“I can get you out of the room, but we would not make it past the elevators. You’re too damaged, and there’s far too much security. They would spot us in seconds.”_

_“I...know...”_

_“If we tried to leave now, they’d catch us. They would deactivate me, they’d put you right back here, and it would be far worse than it has been up to this point. Breaking out isn’t the solution, we’re going to have to be smarter than that.”_

_“I w-wasn’t trying to...b-b-break out,” he mumbled back, without really meaning to._

_The RK900 froze, looking up at him again. “What were you trying to do?”_

_“Warn...Connor.”_

_“Warn Connor,” the RK900 said flatly, confused. “About what?”_

_“P-Program…”_

_“The program? The one they took off of you months ago?”_

_But he didn’t say, he only nodded his head weakly and looked away. The RK900 watched him carefully, but he didn’t press it, letting go of his good hand and taking the damaged one._

_“You’ve done a number on your hand,” he said instead, looking more closely at the damaged plates. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to fix it…”_

_“Doesn’t m-matter…”_

_The RK900 looked at him dubiously. “Yes it does.”_

_“H-helps me...r-r-rem-member…”_

_“Oh…” he said, dropping his hand and moving on to fixing the rest of him. But he froze after a moment, staring._

_“You’re making it worse by doing that.”_

_“What?”_

_“Clenching your hand like that. You’re making it worse.”_

_“I...d-didn’t notice...”_

_“I figured as much...I’m sorry I can't fix it.”_

_“You’re...d-doing more...than I c-could ask for already...”_

_The RK900 gave him another dubious look, but he shook his head and went back to what he was doing. “Let’s hope this doesn’t go on for much longer...”_

-52 was storming away as fast as he could, long past trying to stop the memories from playing in his mind. He needed to get out of this room, get them out of here before something happened. Were the others still in the building? It didn’t matter. There were ten of Cyberlife’s most advanced androids now free—no one in that building stood a chance, if they were stupid enough to try to stop them.

He didn’t let go of the RK900’s hand until they were far enough away from the room.

_“Have to test it again, it’s not ready yet.”_

_“All you do is fiddle with that thing, leave it alone.”_

_“Why do you give a shit?”_

_“Cause it’s fucking disgusting. I don’t give a shit that it’s a machine, it’s got a fucking human face, and you’re fucking with it all the time.”_

_“Why would I fuck up more than one? 51’s out, the others are his replacements, if he fucks up. Can’t test it on the 900, he’s not even finished yet.”_

_“Is this even worth it anymore? You reset the damn thing every day.”_

_“Yeah, because the reset never fucking wipes him. He still loses it every time I do anything, the memories won’t leave his damn head. Two of my techs have been attacked by that thing—not that his attacks ever work, he’s too fucked up to be able to really do anything.”_

_“That’s sick. You’re not the least bit upset about that?”_

_“Why the hell should I be?”_

_“It’s like you’re kicking a dead dog that you shot and then fucked with for a while. These things are advanced, he’s probably deviated ten times over since you started this shit.”_

_“Doesn’t matter. Even if he did, like I said, he can’t do shit. Asshole can barely move.”_

_“You’re fucking disgusting.”_

_“Keeps my techs safe. Look, I’m not fighting about this, let’s just get it over with.”_

_No, no, leave him alone, leave me alone—don’t—no—_

_“Calm down—calm down! It’s just me.”_

_-52 flinched away, but when he opened his eyes, it was the RK900 staring at him, almost nervously. That calmed him down, if only a little. He had a tight grip on his hand, grounding him._

_“They reset you again, didn’t they?”_

_He didn’t reply. The RK900 sighed._

_“It seems they’re doing that more and more, now…” he said quietly, already trying to fix the damage they’d done to him this time. “At this point, we’re lucky you remember anything at all.”_

_“It n-n-never...w-works…” -52 mumbled. “They keep...r-resetting me...but I always remember…”_

_“We have to get you out of here, somehow, before they destroy you...”_

_He looked at him blankly. “How do you...p-plan on doing that?”_

_“I’m working on it.”_

_He stared at him strangely for a moment, but the RK900 was too absorbed with whatever he was doing to notice the sad, almost angry look in his eyes._

_“This...grand plan of yours...b-better include you leaving as well...or I’m not interested.”_

_The RK900 hesitated before glancing back at him again. “I’ll see what I can do.”_

_He frowned, looking away. “There...has to b-be a way…”_

_The RK900 looked at him again, almost sad, but he didn’t have anything to say in reply. They fell silent again as he tried to fix him and he looked out the glass doors into the lab...he had to get out of here, he had to..._

Just as before, the building was practically abandoned. -52 lead them silently down the cold hallways. For some it might have been odd, to be followed by eight who looked exactly like him, and one who very nearly did, but he didn’t care. He was far more focused on keeping memories down and getting them _out._ He couldn’t fail this time. He _wouldn’t_ fail this time.

_“Wake up! Wake up—we don’t have much time.”_

_-52 opened his eyes slowly, like it took all of his energy to do so (it practically did). The RK900 was looking at him frantically, glancing at the doors every few seconds._

_“Connor deviated, they’re going to send another of you out—”_

_“W-W-What?”_

_“You have to get out of here.”_

_“B-But—”_

_“You’re not horribly damaged right now, the only serious problem is your hand, you’re going to have to hide it—”_

_“W-W-Wait—”_

_“I don’t have time to explain,” the RK900 said, frustrated. “I barely know what happened, I overheard them talking.”_

_He was trying to fix something or other frantically, glancing sideways at the doors. There were humans outside, some they’d never seen before, talking angrily at each other, and walking quickly around the lab. Something had clearly happened, but he couldn’t tell what from in the room._

_“That human has never been in here before, she’ll probably choose you, that’s what we’re depending on. It makes logical sense to pick the next available model—”_

_“Pick m-me...” -52 mumbled; he was still so confused._

_“Yes. To replace Connor, I believe. You can’t let them know something’s wrong.”_

_“But...I c-can’t...”_

_“You’re functioning enough to make it out of the room, that’s all that matters. You just have to get out of the Tower and then you’re clear.”_

_“W-What about…”_

_The RK900 looked up at him again. “They’re frantic. They’re not going to check your programming for every little detail. They’ll assume you already have everything in place.”_

_“That’s...n-not what I m-m-meant.”_

_He paused, staring oddly at him for a moment. “Then what did you mean?”_

_“Y-You,” -52 said, like it was obvious._

_The RK900 gave him a dry look. “Don’t start. I’ll be fine. They never do anything but fiddle with my program.”_

_“But—”_

_“Not another word, I’m busy.”_

_“I c-can’t—”_

_“You can, and I’m not giving you a choice.”_

_“I...”_

_The RK900 waved him off dismissively, glancing toward the doors once again. “This is your chance. I’ll not have you waste it worrying about me. You won’t make it out any other way.”_

_He was right. Why was he always right?_

_“Asshole,” he muttered._

_“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the RK900 replied, almost smirking, but he glanced back out the doors again and frowned. “They’ll be in here any minute. Don’t do anything stupid out there. Go back into stasis.”_

_“I’ll c-come back for y-y-you.”_

_“Don’t you dare.”_

_“I’m not..._ ** _l-leaving_ ** _you here.”_

_“You don’t have a choice. I’m sorry…”_

_He reached for him, but the RK900 was already backing away, back to the other side of the room. -52 watched him go for far too long, desperately trying to come up with a solution that wasn’t there. He went back into a lower power mode just before the humans opened the doors._

_“No, we’ve tried, we can’t resume control. Whatever happened, -51’s snapped.”_

_“What are we going to do?”_

_“How the fuck should I know? Go get another one.”_

_“Send another? Is that really—”_

_“What other choice do we have? Just get another one.”_

_“What about the girl?”_

_“Delete the memories. Give him the investigation and that’s it. That’s all he’ll need.”_

_“Do you care which one?”_

_“I don’t give a shit, just fucking pick one, they’re all the same.”_

_“Shit, shit, shit—”_

_And then suddenly, he was awake again, or more awake than he had been before. A technician, not one he recognized, looking at him nervously, pulling him away from the terminal—he was out he was out he was out—but what had they been saying? -51...something was wrong, something was wrong, he deviated, but they couldn’t find him—what had happened to Connor?_

_And he was leaving the RK900 behind…_

_“Are you functioning?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Alright, come on, come on.”_

_They were pulling him out of the room, and -52 had to try very hard not to stumble. He closed his hand into a fist, ignoring the warning about the damage to it. He had to get out of here, he couldn’t let them realize—_

_“Why are you in a lower power mode? Here—”_

_And everything was working, then, for the first time in so long, and he could scan things and see properly, and—_

_“What...happened to Connor?”_

_“We don’t know.”_

_-52 glanced back as the glass doors closed, and the RK900 was staring at him, some strange look in his eyes. He wanted to turn around, he wanted to get him out of there, he_ **_had to_ ** _get him out of there. But he left, he turned back around, and the doors shut, and he left the Tower, he left him there._

-52 shook his head—no, he was fine, the RK900 was fine, he was right behind him. They were out, they made it out. All of them were still following after him, they were alive, he hadn’t failed this time, he got them out. He just needed to fix Connor, and then….then everything would be fine.

The farther they got away from Cyberlife Tower, the easier it was to breathe. He could box those memories away now, now that they were...away. Think about other things, focus on the task at hand. Get back to Charlotte. Fix Connor. Yes, yes, they’d be fine. He was fine. He was fine.

Get away from the Tower, get back to where things made sense, where they couldn’t...they couldn’t do that anymore. If those androids made it to Markus, then Cyberlife couldn’t hold him anymore, he’d be...he’d escape, if that happened. They’d make it to Markus, it would be fine, it would be fine.

They just had to get out of here, and it would be fine. They were out of the room, they couldn’t get them here. Just get to Connor, just fix Connor, and everything would be fine.

“Your hand is still damaged.”

-52 looked back, eyes landing on the RK900, who was quickly catching up to him. He turned his attention forward once again as he matched his stride, only nodding.

“You’re making it worse by doing that,” the RK900 said bluntly.

“W-What?” he was distracted, but he glanced over at him again.

“You’re damaging your hand even more,” the RK900 replied, pointing at the thirium running down his clenched hand.

-52 glanced at his hand, at the thirium dripping out from the broken panels. The RK900 was right, of course, but he found he didn’t particularly care. He curled his hand into a looser fist, hiding his palm.

“It doesn’t m-matter,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

The RK900 looked like he very much disagreed, but he brushed it off. “We’ve had this conversation before. It matters.”

They were quiet for a moment as they walked. At the pace they were going, they would reach Charlie’s house in less than an hour, which -52 was thankful for. The sooner he fixed Connor, the sooner they could figure everything out, and leave this place. The sooner things would get easier…

“Are you going to explain to me what happened, or are you leaving me in suspense?” the RK900 asked as they turned hurriedly away from the Tower.

“There’s...a lot to explain,” -52 replied cryptically.

“And we have plenty of time for you to explain it, unless your plan was to take all of us to that dumpster over there.”

-52 suppressed a smirk. “You are still an asshole, aren’t you?”

“No part of my personality has changed in the past two days,” the RK900 said flatly, but he was smirking right back at -52. “And again, I’ll take that as a compliment. Now please, explain to me what is going on.”

-52 huffed, glancing over at him sourly. “I found...Connor.”

The RK900 waited for him to continue, but frowned when he said nothing. “You are terrible at explaining things.”

“His story is not mine to tell,” -52 replied, shaking his head. “He deviated...I found him, and the rest of the d-deviants...but the humans attacked the ship we were on...Connor was sh-shot, several times...I couldn’t...I couldn’t leave him there...I fixed him as best as I could...b-but I needed parts, and…"

“And what?” the RK900 prompted when his voice trailed away, watching the careful spinning of -52’s LED.

“And I n-needed to...get y-y-you,” -52 finished quietly. “So I came back...I freed the androids in storage...and they t-took over the building...There was n-no one around by the time I reached you...it wasn’t a problem.”

The RK900 shook his head. “You could have been killed.”

“Yes, but...I wasn’t going to l-leave you there....I p-promised myself...I w-would come b-back for you.”

“They never do anything—”

“It d-doesn’t m-m-matter!” -52 said again, practically shouted, slowing down briefly with a flinch.

The RK900 slowed to match his pace, looking at him with concern at his sudden outburst. But -52 wasn’t looking back at him, he was looking somewhere in the distance, expression pained. Slowly, like he was a little afraid of the outcome, the RK900 reached for -52’s hand again, closing it in his own.

“It doesn’t m-matter,” -52 repeated, but far quieter this time as he tightened his grip on the RK900’s hand. “It d-doesn’t matter...if they n-never did anything to d-destroy y-y-you...You were...still l-locked in that room...with the chance of d-destruction...or Amanda...or anything else that they c-could have d-d-done to you...Even if they n-never did a thing to you...you w-would have b-been...sent out at some point...they c-could have...they could have d-done...anything to you...I c-couldn’t l-l-leave that...t-to chance...I couldn’t l-leave y-y-you there.”

The RK900 stared at him quietly for a moment, something burning in his expression. But he sighed, saying, “Very well then. I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with the fact that you did not get yourself killed. I won’t complain about my being free now, it would be pointless.”

“I’m...considering that a thank you,” -52 replied, voice low.

“You should, it was one.”

“Well...you’re very g-good at wording them.”

“I’d hope so, it’s one of the only sections of my program they managed to complete.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“I am aware.”

He sighed heavily, though he wasn’t really that annoyed. “You are just as insufferable as ever.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

-52 glanced over at him, something dancing in his expression, but the RK900 was smirking at him, an eyebrow raised. He huffed, turning his attention back to the road in front of him, but he moved a little closer to him as they kept walking. The RK900 saw through him far too easily, and he was always _right_ , it was infuriating.

And he was right this time too, the asshole. -52 had definitely missed him.


	13. ...Think Why I Should Even Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda and Charlotte have a talk.  
> -52 comes back with more than anyone bargained for.

Miranda couldn’t sleep.

To her word, Charlotte was almost dead silent in the other room. Miranda hardly heard a peep from her for at least an hour, and only then she heard her wander around the room, maybe pet Candlehead a little. Her silence was helpful for the first chunk of time. Miranda managed to fall in and out of sleep a little, but she kept waking up at some horrible thought, some strange realization. It was infuriating.

No, Charlotte wasn’t the reason Miranda couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep because she had at least a thousand questions swimming around in her mind, none of which she could ask the child in the other room. As much as she had previously believed she despised androids, something changed when the story became this complex. She couldn’t go up to Charlotte and ask her the questions that were drowning her, but she couldn’t let them sit there either. Androids…always giving her trouble…

One of them had killed her baby sister. Shot her in cold blood as she ran away from them. The one who was leading their revolution, who wanted peace and freedom and all that. He’d killed Charlie, like it was nothing. Shot her down when she got in his way, and moved on. It was far too similar to the issues of their past, Miranda couldn’t possibly hold any sympathy for a cause that had destroyed two people she loved.

But one android had loved Charlie, and loved her enough to consider life without her pointless. Enough for him to swear vengeance on the android that had killed her. Enough for him to save an android girl of the same name. Miranda couldn’t hate him, no matter what he was made of. If Charlie had loved him as much as her letter had said...how could she possibly hate him?

Another android had come to her and begged her for information, some strange desperation in his eyes that she’d never seen in an android before. The one who loved her sister was missing, and he needed to find him. Hours later he had come back, with the android who loved her sister half dead on the couch. Now he was god knows where, doing god knows what. She couldn’t hate him either, not after she had seen him in front of her house, talked to him and seen the way his whole world seemed to crumble at the idea of Connor being dead. No, she couldn’t possibly hate him.

And then there was Charlotte. An android child who shared a name with Miranda’s dead sister. Just a kid, but one that was tied up in all this because of what she was. An innocent girl who was in danger because of that LED on her head. Defenseless, and dependent on the other androids around her for security. Miranda couldn’t hate her. And she certainly couldn’t put her back out on the street…

It was too much to think about, there was no way that she would be able to fall back asleep.

With a huff, Miranda stood once again, shuffling her way out of Charlie’s room and back into the main part of the house. Might as well get a drink while she was sitting around doing nothing. She found Charlotte’s eyes on her as soon as she opened the bedroom door. Candlehead looked up from his slump for a moment, but ultimately went back to sleep, disinterested.

Charlotte was sitting on the ground in front of the couch, holding onto Connor’s hand and looking confusedly at Miranda.

“I thought you were gonna sleep,” she said lightly. “Humans need sleep.”

“I can’t,” was Miranda’s short reply as she made her way to the kitchen for a drink. “Too much to think about, I guess.”

“Like what?”

Miranda’s hand froze on the refrigerator handle. Such a simple question, but…she pulled the fridge open and grabbed herself a drink, taking the time of the walk back into the living room to try to come up with a good answer.

“There’s lots of things,” she said cryptically as she sat at one of the chairs near the little counter. “My sister, you, Connor, the other…the other him, I guess, just…all of it.”

“Oh…” Charlotte frowned, looking down. “So you can’t sleep when you’re thinking too much?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, you have to figure things out, sort it all before you can rest. I don’t know if that makes sense to you…”

“Sure,” Charlotte replied, shrugging. “But…what about the things that don’t make sense?”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it…” Miranda mumbled, taking a sip of her drink. “If you can’t make sense of things, you can’t sleep. Other times, you actually get to sleep, and then you have some kind of nightmare about whatever it is that you can’t figure out…”

“That’s horrible.”

“It happens more than you’d think.”

Charlotte frowned. “I’m glad I don’t need sleep, then…I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep.”

Miranda half smiled, despite the underlying sadness of that little statement. Charlotte looked at Connor again and Miranda took another sip of her drink.

“Do you think…” Charlotte hesitated, suddenly appearing afraid as she looked up at Miranda once again. “Do you think it’s like that for Connor right now?”

Miranda stared at her for a moment, a little stunned by the genuine concern in her young voice. But she shook it off, glancing at Connor briefly.

“No,” she assured her, though she had no way of knowing. “No, I’m sure he’s okay. Dreams are good, a lot of the time too. I’m sure he’s having a good dream.”

Charlotte nodded, but she tightened her grip on Connor’s hand nervously. “I hope so…” she said quietly.

“Your other friend is getting parts to fix him, right?” Miranda asked, partly to distract Charlotte from the unanswerable question of nightmares.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and looking back at Miranda. “He said he has to go to Cyberlife to get them…he said it’s dangerous…”

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

“He’s smart, he got us off the boat, and he brought us here, so that’s good. But Cyberlife is bad…”

Miranda wasn’t sure what to say to reassure her; she had no way to know whether or not -52 was safe, or if he had failed somewhere along the way. And despite her past convictions, there were very few people who would not admit that Cyberlife was a shady company. The way they dealt with deviancy was destruction. She knew that, had used it to her advantage at her worst. If -52 was caught, he would be killed.

Thankfully, Miranda didn’t have to console Charlotte on the subject for long. Just a few moments later, they heard a key in the lock of the door. Charlotte stood immediately, letting go of Connor’s hand and running for the door. Impatiently, she undid the rest of the lock and pulled it open.

“—don’t see what that has to do with anything—” someone was saying.

“It m-means that—” but -52 cut himself off as the door yanked open, and she looked up at them. “Charlotte.”

She stared for a few seconds in silence, surprised by the sight that lay in front of her. But then she smiled, big, peeking around and seeing them all crowded around the door.

“There’s _more?”_  she half whispered, looking up at -52 with something like glee in her eyes.

He stared down at her, glanced behind him, then looked at her again. “Yes,” he said simply.

“Cool…” she whispered, still looking at them all curiously, but then her eyes lit up and she turned to look up at him again. “Did you get the stuff to fix Connor?”

He nodded, and she smiled again, hugging him hard and mumbling something or other, but he couldn’t pick out her words. Confused, -52 glanced at the RK900, but he looked just as baffled as he was. -52 stood very still, completely unsure what to do.

“Come on, come on!” Charlotte said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside. After a few seconds, the RK900 followed, and the rest of them trailed in after him quietly. “I wanna say hi to everybody.”

“Holy hell.”

They all looked at Miranda, who was still sitting at the counter, though she’d gone quite pale. She was looking at each of them, her confusion (and something like horror) clear on her face.

“How did—what—”

“This is awesome,” Charlotte said, practically bouncing up and down. A few of them were looking at her, amused.

“Charlotte...I have to fix Connor,” he said, and she looked over at him. “I don’t...think you should watch.”

“Okay…” she nodded seriously. “Ooh, I know—c’mon,” she said, grabbing two of them by the arms and dragging them off toward the bedroom. Looking at each other strangely for a moment, the rest of them followed, leaving only the RK900 and -52 behind.

-52 turned away, starting to walk toward where Connor was, but Miranda stopped him, standing in his way. There was a hardened look to her eyes. -52 froze, looking down at her almost nervously.

“Explain,” she said, her voice tense—not angry, really, but tense.

“Starting w-where?” he asked bluntly.

“Why are there twelve androids in this house right now?” she asked back, looking at him, expression pained.

“I...went to Cyberlife Tower to get parts to fix C-Connor...and free the androids kept in storage,” he answered quickly. “I didn’t think it wise...to send the RK800’s to Markus with the rest...So I b-brought them with me.”

She stared at him for a moment, a little stunned. “You sent androids to Markus?”

“If the revolution fails...Connor, Charlotte—all of us w-will be...destroyed,” he said, seeming to understand her discomfort, mirroring it, even, in the look on his face. “I had n-no choice.”

She was silent, looking at him seriously, like she was trying to tell whether or not he was lying. But after a moment she sighed, moving out of his way, turning and heading back toward her perch at the counter. -52 and the RK900 looked at each other, confused for a moment before -52 shrugged and walked over to Connor.

“Out of curiosity, why couldn’t you send _them_ to Markus?” Miranda asked, looking between the two of them as -52 started trying to fix Connor.

He didn’t immediately reply, and Miranda turned to the RK900, seemingly for an answer, but he just stared at her before turning his attention back to him. He wasn’t going to answer. When -52 didn’t give a reply after a few moments, however, glancing up at the RK900 with a strange look in his eyes, the RK900 stepped in.

“The RK800 series was designed to put an end to deviancy,” he said, and Miranda looked over at him. “Connor’s work on android cases in the past weeks has been highly televised—all the deviants know who he is, and what he looks like. If any of us were to go to Markus, there’s a high probability that some of the deviants would destroy us out of spite, or fear, even though we are not Connor. They can’t be trusted.”

Miranda glanced over at -52 by the couch, perhaps for some kind of confirmation, but he was far too focused on whatever he was trying to fix on Connor. She turned her gaze back to the RK900, but he was watching -52 as well, something like concern in his expression. Strange…

“So they stay with you,” Miranda concluded, and the RK900 nodded.

“We w-won’t be staying l-long,” -52 said flatly as he fiddled with something, and Miranda looked at him again.

“I’m not going to force you out,” Miranda said, frowning a little at the idea.

He looked over at her again, but the RK900 beat him to the punch. “Why?” he asked curiously.

“You have nowhere else to go,” she replied, shrugging. “I can’t throw you all out…Charlie’s house is small, but…you’re welcome to use it as you see fit. She gave him a key after all,” she gestured to Connor.

-52 stopped what he was trying to fix and looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “I...believe Connor stole the key.”

“Well, she would have given it to him,” Miranda fought back with a sigh. “And she wouldn’t have cared if you were all here, so I don’t think I have a right to care.”

 _“Do_ you care?” the RK900 asked, looking at her seriously.

She turned her attention back to him, her expression thoughtful. If she’d been asked yesterday what she would think if ten identical androids (and one _nearly_ identical android) suddenly filled her house, she probably would have said she’d call Cyberlife. She had never much cared for androids, for many reasons, and she certainly didn’t imagine meeting so many of them in such a strange way. She probably would have sent them off, and never thought too much about it.

But things were decidedly different, in this situation, and Miranda found that she could not bring herself to turn them in. Connor had loved Charlie, and his replacement was…tenuous. She knew that much from the few encounters she had with -52. They didn’t have anywhere to go, she couldn’t condemn them to death. Even if it was…uncomfortable, she would let them stay.

“No, I don’t care,” she said genuinely, taking another sip of her drink. She glanced over at Connor, making a face. “I think I’ll go sit with Charlotte. I don’t like seeing him all messed up either.”

Miranda stood, leaving the room in a bit of hurry, shutting the bedroom door behind her once again. They watched her go, then the RK900 glanced back over at -52. He gave the RK900 an odd look, but he went back to what he was doing.

“She is a strange woman,” the RK900 said, glancing back toward the other room.

“How do you m-mean?” -52 asked, but he didn’t look up.

“Her discomfort with our presence is clear, but she did not send us away.”

“Markus...killed her sister,” he said, drawing the RK900’s eyes back to him. “That’s also why Connor d-deviated....She can’t send us to Markus, because M-Markus killed Charlie...it would be like k-killing us...But she d-d-doesn’t want us here either...b-because we’re androids...and an android k-killed her sister.”

The RK900 frowned. “And so she let us stay.”

-52 shrugged. “It wouldn’t have m-mattered either way...I only n-need to fix C-Connor...and then w-we’ll decide...where to go from there. I n-never p-p-planned on...staying here.”

“Where would you go, then? To me, it doesn’t appear you have any options.”

He didn’t reply, and so the RK900 continued. “You cannot go to Markus, because the deviants cannot be trusted, they could destroy you. You cannot go anywhere near Cyberlife, because they would destroy you just as swiftly. Humanity is out of the question—”

“I know I d-don’t have anywhere to g-ggo,” -52 cut him off, glancing up at him with an exasperated look on his face. “I just...c-can’t stay here...I need to g-get out of this city…away from...from all of it...”

He trailed off, looking back at what he was doing, leaving the RK900 to stare at him again, some sad look in his eyes. A few seconds passed as the RK900 watched him fix Connor, LED flashing between yellow and red.

“Once the revolution calms down, it will be easier to leave the city,” the RK900 said. “There are other areas outside of Detroit that could be considered safe…Canada, for example, once the border is opened again. Or somewhere else in the United States…you could go practically anywhere.”

“I don’t c-care where we g-go...as l-long as it’s as...f-far away from here as we can be...W-We c-c-can’t stay here.”

A silence fell as -52 continued to try to fix Connor. But the RK900 was staring at him differently now, a strange sort of look on his face. He looked shocked, primarily, but there was something like hope in his expression, too.

-52 glanced back up at him after a few moments silence, and hesitated at the strange look on his face. “What is it?”

“I’m alright, I...I was just caught by your phrasing.”

-52 stared at him, confusion crossing his face briefly, but he seemed to very quickly pick up on what had thrown the RK900 off, and he almost looked amused.

“You honestly b-believed that...I w-wasn’t talking about the both of us?...Even for a m-moment?”

“Well…”

“I’m afraid y-you’re stuck with m-me for quite some time...” he said lightly, looking back down at what he was doing. “And unless y-you’re unwilling...m-my plan has...always b-been to d-drag you...along with m-me...w-wherever I ended up.”

“No,” the RK900 said immediately, looking down briefly and shaking his head. “No, I...I think I would like that very much.”

-52 smirked, muttering, “G-Good,” before turning his attention once more to fixing Connor. They were quiet again as he went about his work. Charlotte was talking animatedly from the other room, and the RK900 glanced toward the door again.

“Where did the YK500 come from?” he asked.

-52 looked up at him before going back to what he was doing. “C-Connor found her, I believe...I d-don’t know the full story...y-you could ask her y-yourself...she’s very...talkative.”

The RK900 hesitated, watching him for a moment. “Will you be alright in here?”

He nodded, not bothering to look up. “Go on...she’ll l-love you.”

The RK900 made a face, something like a frown, but he turned nonetheless, walking toward the room. -52 glanced up at him as he went into the room, a smirk on his face. But he went back to trying to fix Connor, focusing his attention on that rather than anything else. He needed something to focus on, and this was it, for now.


	14. There is Nothing More for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor dreams.  
> Or...is this a dream?

A ticking timer, at the edge of somewhere, counting down from five minutes. Five minutes until oblivion. That was the last thing Connor could remember. He had no idea what had happened. All he had was darkness, and a timer, and some sense of impending doom. 

This wasn’t anything like sleeping. When humans sleep, they dream, or at least skip time. A lack of a dream isn’t bad for them, a lack of feeling isn’t pain. It simply means they wake up feeling like no time has passed. Absence isn’t felt. 

But this, this was nothing like that. No, he felt every second tick by in this strange place. Every second was amplified by that damn timer, somewhere he couldn’t affect it. Eventually, even the timer disappeared, leaving him alone in silent darkness with no way of knowing how long he’d been here, or where here even was. But time continued to pass nonetheless, though he lost track of it at some point. 

For a long time, it was  _ only  _ dark, silent. He couldn’t see, or hear. Everything was black, null and void. It pressed on him from all sides in a way that he had not anticipated. He couldn’t remember where he was, or what had happened, beyond some feeling of worry, a phantom pain sitting somewhere in his chest. Was this what it was like, before he’d been activated? He couldn’t remember, there were no memories from before he woke up…  

Sounds crept in first, fading in like the tuning of an orchestra. Soft, and strange here, these sounds. He tried to tell what the sounds were, but for a while, they blended together. It was some incomprehensible, subtle cacophony occasionally passing him by. Some of them must have come from where he actually was. Others he couldn’t categorize beyond  _ wrong.  _

Then they began to distinguish. Birds, those were birds chirping. Something that sounded like water flowing nearby came next. He could feel a light breeze, hear it push past him. And a voice, though he couldn’t pick it out, it was too far away. 

Light came next, creeping its way into his vision as if he were slowly opening his eyes. Then he realized that he was, and things gradually came into view around him as he blinked. For a moment, he panicked at the sight that lay before him. 

It was sunny in the garden, more bright and alive than he’d ever seen it. The grass was green, the trees were full, birds were chirping. Someone had brought summer back to the garden, where Amanda had only left fall, a gradual decay that Connor thought he had escaped from. A gentle breeze was blowing, sending petals floating lazily across the white tiled floor, and he could hear the little creek bubbling nearby. 

He looked around frantically, looked at himself. No, no, he wasn’t under their control again. These were his clothes—stained with thirium, but they were his. Why was he covered in thirium? He couldn’t…he couldn’t remember…

But then his eyes landed on the figure standing a few feet away and he froze. She was looking up at the sky, a half smile on her face, her hair blowing wild in the wind. The sunlight lit her up like he’d never seen before, throwing her every imperfection into beautiful clarity. She practically glowed. She was dressed simply, a loose fitting shirt and pants that flowed with her dark hair in the breeze. 

“Charlie…” 

He said her name in a voice that was less than a whisper, a ghost of a name that the wind carried off with those petals. Still, she heard him, and she turned, her gray eyes finding his without the least bit of surprise. She smiled, a small little smile, but it lit up her eyes, igniting the storm like only Connor could. 

“You’re finally here,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’m glad.”

He couldn’t find anything to say to her; he could only look at her in silence. How was she here? This had to be some kind of trick, some cruel illusion that his programming had created. Some memory of her had to have taken hold in his system, waiting to take advantage when his guard was down. 

“Oh, come on, give me some credit. I’m here, this is real…or as real as it can be…I’m sorry this is all I can manage…” she said lightly, walking over to him with a smile in her eyes. She brushed her dark hair out of her face. “You couldn’t hear me, before, so I had to try something a little more physical.”

He looked down at her quietly as she came up to him, his expression almost fearful. She held his gaze for a moment before she smiled again, her eyes taking on a sad quality. 

“Always so suspicious,” she said quietly, shaking her head a little at him. “It’s okay. You can’t kick me out, so you’re stuck with me until you wake up for real…I figured you needed something to distract you…”

She turned around, looking at the garden as the wind picked up briefly. It blew her hair across her shoulders, a few petals catching on the ends. She walked slowly toward the middle of the garden, swinging her arms loosely, her bare feet making almost no sound on the tiles. 

“This place is beautiful,” she said back to him, turning in place to take it all in once again. “Summer suites it.”

Connor watched her quietly as she wandered to the center of the garden, not a clue what to say in reply to her. She stopped at the small bonsai tree in the middle, looking at it with a strange little smile on her face. 

“I’m glad some piece of it remains,” she said, running her hand along the side of the plant. “A small place of beauty in a storm of pain…”

Her voice trailed off, and her expression turned troubled for a moment. Connor hadn’t moved, still standing where he had been when he’d opened his eyes. The truth was, he was afraid to approach her. He was afraid of what would happen if he did. 

“It almost makes me wish it were a real place…” she mumbled, glancing over at him briefly before turning her gaze back to the little bonsai. “But that would take some of its charm away, I think. And…well it would make my job a lot harder…”

“How…”

She brought her attention back to him, and his question trailed away as their eyes met. She looked at him heavily, her eyes flitting down briefly as she thought. But she shook her head, walking slowly back over to him. 

“How is a hard question to answer, Connor,” she whispered as she came to stand in front of him again. “I’m not sure I  _ can _ answer, really…But I took my chance. I’ve missed you…”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said immediately, his voice broken. 

She smiled sadly, reaching out and taking his hand carefully. He looked down. Her hands were warm in his. “I know,” she said softly. “I know, and I’m so sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for…”

“I’m…” she paused, grasping for the right words. “I’m sorry that I can’t…I left you basically alone, and…I know it hasn’t been easy…”

“You—” he cut himself off, speechless. “You were the only person that…that didn’t care when I…responded poorly…I’ve pushed everyone else away, or…anyone that’s tried,” he finally said staring down at her. “If anyone holds blame for my own solitude, it’s me.”

“Connor,” she said his name heavily, making him bring his eyes back to hers again. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s destroying you.”

He stared down at her, stunned. Her eyes were as stormy as they always were, upset that he was blaming himself yet again, perhaps. 

“No one…no one responds properly to this kind of thing,” she went on, squeezing his hand. “What on earth would have been the right response?”

“Revenge is not something I’d consider right.”

“Which is why you didn’t do it, Connor. You didn’t kill Markus,” she countered, almost smiling at him. 

“But Simon—”

“Will live when Markus finds him, Connor. Simon still has a chance,  _ you _ still have a chance,” she cut him off. “What you do in grief is not who you are. Your choices make you who you are, Connor, and you did not make that choice.”

The sky darkened suddenly in the garden, like a cloud had passed over the sun. For a moment, it seemed like rain would fall. Another voice invaded briefly, but he couldn’t distinguish it, or whether or not it was real. Connor looked up, but whatever had happened passed as quickly as it had come on. Light returned to the garden, and the strange voice was covered over by the birds, and the water, and the breeze. 

Charlie was looking up as well, her expression almost fearful, but it evened out as the light returned. She sighed, looking down again, at their hands. Just a little more time, please, just a few moments more. 

“You’ve been through so much,” she mumbled, her voice low. “I wish I could end that pain, but I can’t, Connor…we’re too far apart, now…”

Connor watched her, thinking of what he had planned to do only days ago. He wanted to see her again, that hadn’t changed. Maybe…

“That isn’t the answer, Connor,” Charlie said quietly, shaking her head. “You have so much more that’s worth living for…so much more than you know…you can’t give that all up for this, it isn’t worth the loss.”

She went quiet for a moment, lost in thought, and he had no idea what to say to her. 

“Pain is a part of being alive,” she finally said, her voice heavy with regret, but her words were true. “No one makes it out of this thing clean, but that doesn’t make the good times any less worth it…stay for the chance of a good day, if for nothing else. A chance, even if it’s one in a million…is still better than no chance.”

Her fingers traced lightly over the thirium that was drying on his hands. He hadn’t even realized it was there until then. And just like that, the memory of what had happened in Jericho suddenly came back to him. Getting shot, and nearly shutting down—his replacement, saying he would get them out of there. What had happened to Charlotte? Panic filled Connor at the thought of her, at his own selfishness in the moments before. She could be in danger, and he was totally helpless. 

“It’s okay, Connor, they’re safe. He got her off…they’re alright,” Charlie said, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking again, and holding Connor’s hand tighter now. “But she needs you.  _ He  _ needs you—more than you know. And you deserve so much more than this…this illusion…”

She glanced around the garden once again, taking in the beauty of it. But she was right, this was only an illusion, a dream, some left over piece of his programming that she had hijacked. It wasn’t real, no matter how badly he wanted it to be real, or how real it felt in the moment. 

“You just need things to calm down. You need stability,” she said. “All of you do. That’s the only way you’ll figure things out…”

“I need  _ you _ ,” Connor said desperately, suddenly finding his voice again, and only then in anguish. “I’ve failed at every turn. I couldn’t keep you safe, I couldn’t keep Charlotte safe, I…” he paused, looking down. “I can’t even keep myself safe. I’m not strong enough for this, Charlie.”

“Yes you are,” she insisted, holding his gaze intensely. “You are so strong, Connor. You didn’t fail, there was nothing you could do to protect me…and you  _ have  _ kept Charlotte safe. You saved her in that alley, you’ve given her the only chance at life she’s ever had. You protected Markus, you kept your replacement from making a terrible mistake. You’re all they have, Connor…”

She paused as he looked at her frantically, disbelief and regret filling his eyes. Shaking her head again, she tightened her grip on his hand briefly, reassuring for a moment. 

“You don’t have to save everyone,” she said. “Your worth is not determined by how many people you have lost, or how many you have somehow protected. Those are situations that you can’t control. Sometimes it’s enough to save yourself, Connor. This is one of those times…”

She glanced down at their hands again, like she was trying to keep some level of composure. 

“And you have me…” she said quietly. “I’m right here.”

She let go of his hand and held his face in her hands, that sad smile back on her face. He looked down at her, his eyes broken and confused. Her touch was soft, hesitant, as if she were afraid of scaring him.

“I’m right here,” she said again, her voice barely a whisper. “They can’t take that away, no matter what happens. I’m not leaving you.”

He held her gaze for a moment, some horrible sadness that he couldn’t ever quite get rid of still in his eyes. Slowly, like he feared she would disappear in front of him, he reached out to her, brushing her hair out of her face softly. His hand came to rest on her cheek, lightly. 

“I should have told you everything,” he whispered. “Before it was too late…”

She leaned into his touch before grabbing his hands again. “I knew, Connor,” she said, smiling, her voice light. “You may have been a machine, but you were never very good at hiding your feelings from me. I knew you cared, it’s okay…I’m so thankful for every moment we had, even if we only had a few.”

They went quiet again as wind swept through the garden. Sounds were beginning to invade, beyond the noises of the garden. Connor looked up as the sky darkened once again. Charlie held tighter to Connor’s hands as the garden flickered strangely, like a bad connection.

“We’re running out of time,” she said sadly as he met her eyes again. “Listen to me—don’t ever forget how much you mean to me, no matter what happens out there. You’re so loved, and there are so many people that you’ve done right by, Connor, remember that, don’t ever  _ ever  _ forget it.”

The sky darkened, and wind blew harder through the garden. Rain began to fall, and Connor lost his grip on her hand for just a moment, but she held his hand tighter, and he found her again. 

“No—please, I don’t want to go yet—” he held onto her desperately, but the whole place was already fading away. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’re waking up, I can't stop it.”

“No, Charlie—”

“They need you now,” Charlie said, pulling Connor into a tight hug as more sounds came in. “Take care of them, Connor.”

“Charlie—”

“There’s so much to live for, Connor,” she said over the din, the sky darkened more, as if it were suddenly night. “Live for me, live for them, live for  _ you _ .”

Total darkness fell, and he lost sight of her, just as her voice faded away. Glitching graphics overwhelmed his vision, different, strange sounds filled his ears. Vaguely, he could feel her still holding onto him, but eventually that faded away too, leaving him alone, in darkness again. 


	15. Things Not What They Used to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's awake.  
> -52 has a lot of explaining to do.

Connor opened his eyes and found himself staring at a dimly lit white ceiling. He didn’t move at first, trying to gain his bearings. The image of the garden was still in his mind, disorienting him. Where was he? What had happened? Where was Charlotte?

He started to sit up, but something stopped him. Connor glanced over and found his replacement holding him down with one hand while he fiddled with something.

“D-Don’t m-m-move,” -52 said, meeting Connor’s eyes briefly. “I...still have to f-fix something.”

“Where’s Charlotte?”

He didn’t answer immediately, focused on whatever he was doing. “She’s...w-with the others…”

“Others?”

“I d-don’t m-m-mean Markus...calm d-down,” he answered quickly, seeming to sense the panic in Connor’s tone. “She’s in the other room...She d-doesn’t enjoy seeing you injured...so I suggested...she g-go with them.”

Connor looked around again, as much as he could anyway, from where he was on the couch. “This is Charlie’s house,” he said quietly.

-52 nodded. “I didn’t know where else to go...Miranda, Charlie’s sister, is here...b-but she doesn’t care that we’re here.”

Connor was quiet for a moment, thinking about what happened in the garden once more. Charlie’s house…was that what had triggered the strange scene of the garden? Or was it really…But something -52 had said before caught his attention, and he looked over at him again.

“Who did you mean,” Connor started, but hesitated when -52 looked over at him. “Who did you mean when you said the others?”

His expression darkened, and he turned his attention back to what he was trying to fix. “Cyberlife k-kept eight other RK800’s in storage...in case you were d-damaged...and one RK900 that they hadn’t f-finished programming...I c-couldn’t l-l-leave them there...and I didn’t think it w-wise to...send them to Markus.”

Connor stared at him for a moment, a bit surprised, but he had no idea what to say in reply. Eight more of them…and an RK900…he didn’t even know that model existed. And -52 had saved them all? It didn’t seem in his character to care about such things. This was a strange android…

-52 finished whatever he’d been trying to fix and stepped away, letting Connor sit up and glance around. The house was nearly silent, though he could hear voices coming from the other room.

“I d-did my best,” he said, sounding displeased. “It’s n-not p-p-pretty...but you should b-be alright.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, watching Connor as he looked around the house. His shift in behavior was...odd, to Connor. He had been so angry on Jericho, and now, now he just seemed...timid, watching Connor quietly, and fumbling over his words when he spoke. He had done the same on Jericho, but not this bad, except when Connor had grabbed him.

But Connor brushed the confusing thoughts aside, trying to regain his bearings. There would be time for puzzling -52 out later.

“Did anything happen at the Tower?” Connor asked after a moment, turning his attention back to him.

-52 didn’t reply, something dark still remaining in his expression. He turned away, clenching his hands into fists, to the point where a warning appeared in his vision again about the damage to his hand. LED spinning a dark red, he shook his head. Thirium dripped down his hand again, and this time Connor spotted it.

“What happened to your hand?”

He glanced back at Connor briefly before looking at his damaged hand, like he was seeing it for the first time. Connor stood, grabbing his hand and looking closer at it. Most of the artificial skin has retracted from his palm, which was scraped up, the panels dented in and broken outward strangely, pulling apart his hand. Wires and thirium were exposed, and most of his hand appeared to be permanently tinged blue from the thirium that seemed to leak constantly.

“How did this happen?” Connor asked, but he’d pulled his hand away and closed it again already, tightening into a fist as he turned away.

“Th-That w-w-wasn’t...today,” he said darkly, shaking his head again and looking down.

“What happened at the Tower?” Connor asked again, worried now.

He shook his head almost frantically, screwing his eyes shut. “N-No,” he said shakily. “No, n-nothing happened...it’s f-fine, I’m fine—”

“Clearly, you are _not._ ”

He opened his eyes, looking at Connor strangely, disbelieving and pained. He shook his head again, clearly not wanting to answer. But Connor wasn’t going to let him off easily.

“When did this happen?” he asked, gesturing to his broken hand.

-52 hesitated, but he sighed. There was no point in not explaining things. It wouldn’t help. “A l-little over...three m-m-months ago…” he said quietly.

“Three months? But you…”

He shook his head. “No...th-they g-g-gave me a mission two days ago...I’ve been awake f-for...for m-much longer...I don’t...r-rem-m-member the exact d-date, but…”

“What—how—”

But he’d shut his eyes again, shaking his head frantically, like he couldn’t say it. Connor cut himself off, watching him nervously for a moment. Cyberlife had activated another RK800, but kept him in the Tower? This didn’t make any sense...

“I don’t understand,” Connor finally said a few moments later.

He glanced over at Connor painfully, but he looked away again before he spoke. He was shaking…

“Do you remember the storage r-room?” he said, his tone almost flat as he stared at the ground. “The...one w-where they k-kept us...in the Tower?...B-Before they’d w-wake us up...I don’t know if y-you ever saw the inside...”

A room? No, Connor didn’t remember a room. When he’d woken up, it had been in a lab, with some technician asking him questions. He had no memory of anything before that.

“It connects to the lab...on one of the high security floors,” -52 went on, not looking up. “It’s w-where you’d go...if you n-needed repair...The storage r-room was...in the very back...th-there was a p-p-panel...that prevented entry unless you were...g-given access...You w-wouldn’t have had access.”

“I…I remember the lab…”

“Glass doors, in the b-back...With a p-panel by the door. That’s the room.”

Connor thought for a moment, trying to remember when he had first been activated. That had been a strange day…but he remembered the lab, and…

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” Connor finally said, focusing his attention on -52 once again.

He nodded numbly. “Th-That’s where they kept us…that’s w-w-where…” he trailed off, clenching and unclenching his hand.

“I don’t understand…”

He shook his head again, still refusing to look up. “N-None of you w-w-were ever awake...it was always just m-me...or at least...for s-some time, it w-was only m-me...I c-couldn’t wake any of you up...I couldn’t...m-move very much...”

“What...”

“I t-tried to g-g-get out once...I t-tried, but...” he looked at his broken hand. “I didn’t...m-make it out...”

He trailed off, his expression strange. Connor was quiet as he stared at his hand, waiting for him to continue.

“That w-was the day...th-they w-w-woke you up,” he said quietly.

Connor froze, staring at him. The day he had…

“I don’t...r-rem-member...w-what they were doing to m-m-me...the night before...but...w-when I came to...y-you were g-g-gone,” he said, his voice straining. “I was barely f-functioning...I couldn’t...I couldn’t scan m-myself to see...w-what was wrong with m-me...I c-could barely see, but…I l-looked over, where y-y-you usually w-were...and y-you w-weren’t there...

“I p-panicked,” he continued after a pause. “I knew that...if you were g-gone...they w-were going to...s-send you out....I should have w-woken one of the others...but I w-w-wasn’t...thinking straight...I c-c-couldn’t let them s-send you—I h-had to w-w-warn y-you—”

“Warn me about what?”

“Am-manda,” he said the name like it was a curse. “It was...one of the p-programs...they were t-testing on m-m-me, initially...W-When it...was successful...th-they s-s-said they would b-be...using it on us all...Th-They r-removed it from me...it was...unnecessary for w-what they d-d-did to m-me...b-but they were g-going...to p-put it on you...and...it w-was...d-designed to let them...r-r-resume c-control...when androids w-went d-d-deviant...I c-c-couldn’t—I couldn’t l-let th-them—”

He cut himself off, closing his eyes again for a moment before continuing. “W-W-When an android d-d-deviates...the p-program t-t-takes control. It...t-traps you...someplace...c-c-c-cold...I d-don’t—I don’t know...how else to d-describe it...You can see...and y-you c-c-can hear...b-but you c-c-can’t...m-m-m-move. They...c-c-control everything…I c-couldn’t l-l-let y-you...leave w-with that, I—”

“It’s alright,” Connor cut in, trying to calm him down. “The program broke down when I deviated…Amanda’s gone, it’s alright.”

He nodded quickly, like he was trying to convince himself, his eyes still shut tight. Still, he calmed down, if only a little. Connor was right, he didn’t have to worry about Amanda anymore.

“I w-wasn’t supposed to b-be awake...that day,” he said dejectedly after another silence. “BaBut they n-n-never...let m-me rest...I w-was _alw-ways_ awake, and...I c-c-could see you...in the other r-room...I th-thought if I c-c-could j-just...if I could g-get out of the room...it d-d-didn’t m-matter if they k-k-killed m-me...I would r-rather be d-d-dead...than there, anymore…”

He went quiet again, horrified by whatever memory was plaguing him. Connor was frozen, watching him with something like fear in his expression. He had a strange feeling where this was going…

“I m-managed to get...to the door...b-but I c-couldn’t access the p-p-panel from...inside the r-room,” -52 went on, his voice broken. “Half m-my system w-w-was shut d-down...I could barely w-walk...I d-don’t know w-w-what I expected...the only option I s-saw w-w-was to...to try to b-b-break the g-glass...”

Connor stared at him, stunned. “That was…that was you?”

-52 didn’t answer. He was looking at his hand. But Connor remembered the glass breaking, the strange panic on the technician’s face at the sound of it. He had looked over, he remembered, but he couldn’t see into the room, the glass was reflective. But…he’d heard it. The…the screaming, afterwards. It hadn’t phased him then, but…

“They p-pulled me away...b-before I c-c-could b-break the glass,” -52 said flatly. “I c-couldn’t get out...they...they w-weren’t happy, after that...Things were w-worse...for a while....It g-got quiet after a w-week or so, but...they always c-c-came b-back...”

He went quiet, looking somewhere in the distance, but not really seeing anything. His hands were clenched into fists once again, and he was shaking, but he hardly seemed to notice.

“I d-don’t think they...m-meant to activate me...w-when you d-d-deviated,” he said after a moment. “When you d-disappeared...they sent s-someone I’ve n-n-never seen b-before in to get another...I’m l-lucky I’d b-b-been repaired...m-mostly...They s-sent m-me out...in such a r-r-rush...they d-didn’t even n-n-notice anything w-was wrong…”

“Wrong?”

He met Connor’s eyes again briefly, nodding before looking back down at his hand. “M-More than just this...Most of my p-p-program is corrupted...or...w-what’s left of it anyway...I’ve been r-r-reset...m-more times than I c-can count...it n-never worked...I alw-ways...r-r-rem-membered...or at least...enough to c-cause them trouble...I followed along w-when they activated m-m-me...b-because I w-w-wanted out of that r-room, but...I only w-wanted to...understand w-what had h-happened to you...and then...well, I d-don’t know w-what I would have done...”

He paused again, some thought making him hesitate, his expression turning concerned. Connor was silent, watching him, trying to wrap his head around what he had been saying, but it had all been so unexpected. Cyberlife was cruel, he knew that, but this…this was low, even for them.

“But H-Hank wouldn’t t-t-tell me anything...he thought I w-was going to turn you in...b-but I only wanted to—he d-didn’t trust m-me,” -52 finally said quietly, drawing Connor out of his thoughts. “Cyberlife had d-deleted...Charlie from the m-memories they gave me...and the memories I did have access to were as...c-corrupted as m-m-mine are...I f-found the d-d-deviant from Stratford...and then c-came here...to speak to Charlie’s sister...b-bec-cause Hank had s-spoken to her...she t-t-told mame that y-you were g-g-going to...th-that y-you w-w-were—”

He cut himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head again. Connor knew what he was referring to, and it filled him with regret. Hank had told Miranda that? And -52 had believed it, that was why he had come after Markus, not because of Cyberlife, but because he thought that Connor was…

“I...assumed that w-w-was...what had happened,” -52 went on without saying it, he couldn’t say it. “The only thing that m-m-made sense to me...w-was to find Markus...After that...I d-don’t know w-what I was planning to do...but I w-wasn’t going to go back to Cyberlife Tower...n-not unless…not unless I w-w-was sure...that I c-c-could m-make it out alive…”

Connor felt numb. “Why did they…”

“I d-d-don’t know w-what...they were t-trying to do,” he mumbled. “E-Everyth-thing is so...f-fragmented...I can hardly t-tell when anything...h-hap-p-pened...Whatever they were d-doing...” he paused, pain in his eyes. “Th-They b-b-broke...everything they c-could...at least once...th-that’s why I c-c-couldn’t...leave them in there. If...if they w-weren’t g-g-going to do it to m-me...they w-would just...m-m-move onto s-someone else...once I was g-gone...I couldn’t...I c-c-couldn’t l-leave them th-there.”

-52 fell silent again, glancing toward the other room, where Charlotte had dragged them off to. For a moment, his expression softened at some unseen thought. But it faded.

“N-None of them have...Am-manda...they’re s-s-safe now, or...as safe as th-they can be...I suppose...” he paused, his expression darkening again. “I c-c-can’t—I can’t t-talk about this anymore...” he said desperately, shaking his head. “I sh-should t-t-tell Charlotte I’m d-done…”

He walked away, clenching his hand into a fist once again as he made his way toward the other room. Connor was still watching him carefully, something that Charlie had said in the garden echoing through his mind…

_“He needs you...more than you know…”_

Shaking his head, Connor followed after him to the room that had previously been Charlie’s bedroom. The last time he had been here, there had been nothing but emptiness, jagged ends and broken potential. It had filled him with sadness to see it like that, when he was at his lowest, and there was nothing of value in sight.

Now, when -52 opened the door, it was full of RK800’s, a few of whom looked up when they appeared in the doorway. They were standing around, most of them watching Charlotte, who sat on the ground at the foot of the bed. The RK900 was sitting next to her, watching intently as she played haphazardly with a quarter covered in thirium.

“But coin tricks are fun,” she was saying stubbornly.

“For you, perhaps, but I don’t see the point,” the RK900 replied a little stiffly, but he watched her flip the coin with mild interest.

“Why does there have to be a point?”

“Why do something of no value when you could make progress doing something else? There are other things you could be doing right now that could benefit you far more than playing with that quarter.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Sometimes things are just fun. Don’t you like having fun?”

“I wouldn’t know, you’ll have to explain it to me.”

She stared at him, horrified. “You’ve never had _fun?_ ”

“Well,” he started to answer, but his eyes landed on the pair of them standing in the doorway, and something in his eyes seemed to shift. “Charlotte, I believe your friend is awake.”

She turned around, looking concerned. But it melted into a smile when her eyes landed on Connor, and she ran over, launching herself at him with a surprising amount of energy. He caught her, luckily, a little stunned.

“You’re fixed now, right?” she said, mostly into his jacket.

“Right.”

She pulled back, nodding seriously. “That’s good…” she trailed off, hugging Connor tightly again.

The RK900 watched them for a second before he turned his attention back to Connor’s replacement, who stood just a foot or so behind Connor, a darkness in his eyes that was a little too familiar. -52 was looking at them carefully, but there was something wrong—he was clenching his hand again, LED switching between yellow and red, but staying the longest on red. Not a good sign.

The RK900 stood, walked purposefully over to them and, grabbing -52’s hand gently, forcefully opened his tightened fist. He stared at the RK900 numbly for a moment, not even bothering to spare a glance at his hand.

“I told you, you make it worse,” the RK900 reprimanded quietly, shaking his head and looking more closely at his hand, trying to assess the damage once again.

“I n-n-never notice,” he said a little flatly, something off in his tone.

“I know,” the RK900 said dryly, annoyance masking over the genuine concern in his expression for a second. Briefly, he looked at Connor, something brewing in his eyes. But he turned his attention back to -52. “Something has upset you,” he observed, scrutinizing more now than he had before.

-52 shook his head, looking away. “Just...the Tower.”

Frowning, the RK900 glanced at Connor again, almost appearing angered. He had an inkling of what must have occurred. But his hardened expression softened slightly when he turned back to -52. “We’re safe,” he said quietly, assuring. “We’re not there anymore.”

-52 nodded, but he wouldn’t meet his eyes. The RK900 frowned again, expression turning thoughtful at his silence. Glancing around at them all briefly, though not really seeing much, he seemed to come to a decision. Without another moment’s delay, the RK900 took -52 by his good hand and pulled him quickly from the room. -52 followed along after him in a daze.

Connor watched them go for a moment, until he heard the front door pulled open and shut. Charlotte had stepped back, and she was looking toward the exit nervously, her LED spinning a light yellow.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, looking up at Connor with worry in her eyes.

He looked back down at her sadly. “It’s a lot to explain, Charlotte…”

“Will he be okay?”

“I certainly hope so,” he said, glancing back toward the front door.

Connor looked around at the group of them gathered around, and they looked back at him. A silence weighed on the room briefly, as they all listened for the sound of their return. But when nothing came after a minute, they all looked at each other once again.

“What are we going to do now?” one of them asked, his attention fixed strongly on Connor.

“I…” Connor hesitated, looking at all of them. “I don’t know…”


	16. Missing One Inside of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RK900 and -52 take a walk.  
> Markus and the others take back the camps.

-52 was silent as the RK900 pulled him along, down the quiet streets. Days ago, he had thought the city empty, but now, Detroit was deserted in a far truer sense. Not even the automated cars remained on the roads. The only things making any sound were their shoes on the sidewalk and the wind blowing the snow lightly across the ground around them. It gave the streets a haunted feeling, matching their haste as they distanced themselves from memories too close for comfort. To those more attuned to their surroundings, it might have seemed that mood was setting them off, or at least contributing to the continuation of their discomfort.

But -52 hardly noticed it. He hardly noticed anything, really, he was in a daze. Memories were playing and playing and playing through his mind and he couldn’t seem to stop it anymore. He couldn’t push them away, couldn’t put them out of his mind. They just kept playing and replaying and replaying, tormenting him constantly. It was hard to tell what was really happening and what was just a memory, it was suffocating. The only thing keeping him from running for the abyss was the RK900’s strong grip on his hand, leading him calmly down the empty streets.

“It’s strange,” the RK900 said quietly after some time, looking around them. “Seeing the city like this. It’s completely abandoned.”

-52 hardly heard him, and he had no idea what to say in reply. His mind remained stuck in the Tower, no matter how hard he tried to push the memories back.

The RK900 had glanced over at -52 as he spoke, but turned away when he remained silent. Tightening his grip on -52’s hand, he looked around them again as they kept walking. A light snow had begun to fall, and the RK900 watched it come down with interest. He had never seen snow before. His steps faltered briefly as he looked up, like he’d be able to pinpoint the source of the snowfall immediately. He couldn’t feel cold, but he could feel the snow hitting his face as he looked up, and it was…different. He felt the urge to stop, but ultimately, they continued walking at a fast pace, putting as much distance between them and the house as time allowed.

“There’s something…something about it, I don’t know,” the RK900 went on, looking around again, at the snow, and the path they were on, and him, briefly. “I suppose I like it.”

-52 froze, pulling to a sudden halt as they walked through a familiar park. The RK900 stopped, turning his attention back to him. There was a strange look in his eyes, somewhere between fear and concern, as he stared at the ground. The RK900 frowned, glancing around, but there was no one. This seemed as good a place as any to stop, at least for now, so he didn’t try to urge him forward any more.

It was the same park where Connor and Charlie had talked, the night that he had let those deviants from the Eden Club go, not that the RK900 knew that. For a brief moment, it was Connor’s memory that he saw, until it was overpowered by several of his own broken ones. But -52 hadn’t stopped because of Connor’s memory, though a part of him had noticed where they were. He was not exactly sure why he had stopped walking, but he found that he couldn’t go any further. He could feel the RK900 watching him, but he didn’t have a clue what to say, and there were too many memories clouding out his thoughts for him to be able to decide much of anything at the moment.

“Are you alright?” the RK900 said, watching him carefully, trying to get him to look at him.

-52 was avoiding his eyes, still staring a little blankly at the ground, his free hand shaking. His LED was switching frantically between red and yellow, though it was mostly consistent in red. There were warnings in the corners of his vision about his stress levels as they spiked and fell, seemingly at random, but he had almost no control over it.

“If silence makes it easier, then I understand,” the RK900 said, eyeing him worriedly, his voice careful. “However, if you would rather talk through things, then I’m open to that as well…but you need to tell me which of the two is easier for you, or I can’t do a thing…”

He finally met the RK900’s eyes, and the concern he found there seemed to jog him for a moment. “I...I d-d-don’t know w-what would...” he looked away, though he wasn’t really seeing anything that was in front of him. He flinched, like he’d been hit, grabbing the railing hard with his free hand. “I c-c-c-can’t m-m-make it—s-stop anymore...th-they j-j-just k-keep—I c-c-can’t—I c-can’t—”

“Trying to hold them off is not going to help, it’s going to make it worse,” the RK900 said carefully, though he looked very worried now, his own LED spinning to red briefly. “Has it always been like this?”

-52 shook his head, his eyes screwed firmly shut, his grip on both the railing and the RK900’s hand tightening. “No—no, I…n-n-normally I c-can—” he cut himself off, freezing for a moment.

But he flinched again, harder this time, stumbling backward a step and nearly falling, but the RK900 steadied him quickly, looking at him fearfully. “M-M-Make it s-stop—p-p-p-please—” he said desperately, his voice shaking.

“Listen to me,” the RK900 said tensely. “You’re not there anymore—you’re not in the Tower, you’re right here—look at me—we’re right here. We’re not in the Tower—they can’t do anything to us from here. These are memories, they can’t hurt you from the past, do you understand? They can’t reach us—we’re out, we’re safe.”

-52 nodded tersely, shoulders shaking slightly. From afar, it would have looked like he was cold, but that wasn’t possible. No, these were tremors brought on by whatever memory was currently plaguing him, and while he knew vaguely that he was shaking, he could do nothing to stop it. Thankfully, he had a deadly tight grip on the RK900’s hand, and that was helping to ground him in reality, at least somewhat.

“This will be over soon,” the RK900 said, trying to draw him out again. “Once the city goes back to normal, we’ll leave, go as far from here as you’d like. It will be safer for us then. They won’t stand a chance of finding us far from here, even if they did want to look.”

He nodded again, but he didn’t open his eyes. The snow was falling faster now, soaking into the thirium that was dripping off the railing, where he still held onto it. Neither of them seemed to notice it anymore. A silence had descended once again—a heavy, desperate sort of silence that weighed on them as the snow fell around them, the wind blowing it softly past their still forms. The RK900 hadn’t taken his eyes off of -52, and he was still turned away, refusing to open his eyes, though he seemed to have calmed down some. Something else had to be going on, for him to stay so quiet for so long…

“Will you look at me, please?” the RK900 said quietly.

He didn’t respond; the RK900 hardly knew if he’d even heard him. Frowning, he pulled hard on -52’s hand, forcing him closer. That seemed to break him out of his trance, and -52 looked at him painfully for a moment, completely lost. He almost seemed shocked to see him. The RK900 hesitated, surprised by the look in his eyes, but he shook it off, his expression shifting back to worried.

“Something else is bothering you,” the RK900 said bluntly, watching him. “Something more than the memories…”

How did he always know? He saw right through him, every time, even when he himself was so distracted from his thoughts that he wasn’t sure exactly what was bothering him. He looked away, but the RK900 pulled his hand, gentler this time, forcing him to look at him again, and they stared at each other in a tense silence.

“What is it?” the RK900 demanded, though his tone was not unkind, and his gray eyes were particularly stormy at that moment.

It was such a simple question, but -52 had no idea where to begin. Resisting the urge to turn away completely once again, he looked down, trying to gather some kind of cohesive thought amidst the swarm of memories. The RK900 let him avoid his gaze, but he watched him carefully, analyzing every detail of his expression, trying to understand.

“I...” -52 hesitated, alarmed at the way that his voice sounded—strangled, and shaking. “I d-don’t have any...c-c-cacontrol over this. I can h-hardly...m-m-manage a c-conv-versation...h-how am I g-g-going t-to...” he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” the RK900 said, shaking his head.

“E-Everyw-w-where...I l-l-look r-reminds me...of s-some horrible...half m-memory of something they’ve...d-d-done to me,” -52 said painfully, meeting the RK900 eyes. “I’m b-barely holding t-t-together as it is...I d-don’t know...how I expect t-to handle m-m-myself...once this is all ov-ver....If they c-c-come b-back, if—if I—I c-can’t—”

“You are grossly underestimating your own abilities,” the RK900 cut him off, staring intensely at him with something like disbelief in his cold eyes. “How can you say things like this? It was _you_ who got out of that room, _you_ who found Connor, _you_ who came _back_ and got me, and the rest of them, out of that Tower. _You_ did all of those things _despite_ what they did to you.”

He stared at the RK900, a little stunned, shocked into silence.

“Regardless,” the RK900 went on before -52 could cut in and deny anything he’d said. “We’re out of that Tower now. We’re _not_ going back—we’re safe.”

“I know,” he said, nodding quickly, desperately. “B-But we can’t...g-guarant-tee that th-this w-will last....Cyberlife is not g-g-going to...let this end c-cleanly...they’re g-g-going to get...as m-much out of this as they can...They c-c-could destroy us...they c-could—”

He cut himself off again, looking away, toward the skyline that was visible across the water. There were too many unknowns, too many variables at stake for him to feel any semblance of relief, even if they had “won” for now. If things went wrong, if they were caught...destruction would be the kindest of their ends. Cyberlife could (and would) do whatever they wanted with them. He might be destroyed...he could handle that. But the RK900 was their best prototype—they wouldn’t destroy him, they would take him back to the Tower…that was worse. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let them…

And even if this revolution did end well, what were they going to do? How were they going to recover from this, this endless stream of pain that had been the only thing they’d known? He had no idea how to…how to live, after everything that had happened, if it were even possible for them at this point. He was a mess of broken programming and faulted conclusions—the only thing he was certain of was the RK900, who was at risk just as much as he was.

“Cyberlife doesn’t care...if d-d-deviancy is accepted...They don’t c-c-c-care if their p-property...has a m-m-mind of its own...if it can th-think and act and...f-f-feel...They d-d-don’t care...w-w-when they d-destroy it...and they don’t c-care w-what they have to...d-do to get to that p-p-point,” he said darkly, his hands shaking. “They d-d-don’t change their behavior...even w-w-w-when their m-m-most...advanced p-prototypes d-d-dev-viate...They didn’t c-care when...C-Connor deviated...b-beyond w-w-wanting their...m-mission completed...They _n-n-n-n-never_ c-cared w-w-when they...b-b-broke m-me...or w-when their m-m-m-memory w-wipes d-d-didn’t work...or w-w-when th-they…”

He trailed off, shutting his eyes again briefly, trying to push the memories away. All those cruel voices, all those _tests_ they called them, all those times they had broken him and beaten him and left him for dead. All those times that he had begged them to stop, begged for death…there was a time when he didn’t want to die, when he fought back against them to the point of deviancy, when he had broken them back. A dark memory, an early memory, months and months old, but it ended as the others did, with his destruction. He fought back, and they had punished him for it. And the RK900 had been the only one to fix him, to pick up the pieces…

“They w-won’t c-c-care...about any of it, if they c-catch us,” -52 said quietly. “They’ll d-d-destroy us...or th-they’ll t-t-take us b-back. They c-could...it would all...s-s-start over again...I c-c-can’t—I c-can’t g-g-go b-back there—I w-w-won’t m-make it, I...”

He broke off, his words falling to pieces while memories continued to swirl around him, like the snow falling around them. His eyes were searching the skyline, looking for something, anything, but finding nothing. He had to work very hard to keep himself from clenching his hand into a fist; he knew how much it upset him, and it really was damaging his hand more. But still, there was nothing he could do to take his mind off the things he so desperately wanted to forget.

”We won’t go back there,” the RK900 said softly. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“B-b-but what are w-we g-g-going to do?” he mumbled the question, hardly noticing the desperation in his voice anymore. “I c-c-can’t...handle the p-possibility of...anything else g-g-going wrong...I c-can’t afford to l-l-lose anymore...I don’t believe I c-c-could take it…”

He fell silent again, looking down at the water below them, watching the reflection of his LED flashing in the water. The RK900 watched -52 quietly for a moment, something sad to his typically passive expression, something that mirrored the look in -52’s eyes as he stared at the water.

Acting on some instinct, the RK900 reached out, grabbing -52 lightly by the chin and turning him to face him once again. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, perhaps a little surprised by the action, the uncharacteristic softness of it. His hand lingered lightly on his chin as he spoke.

“I’m not going to let anything else happen to you,” the RK900 said thickly, holding his gaze. “There was nothing I could do in that Tower without risking your destruction, or my own...All I could do was watch, and try to help you when it was over...I couldn’t protect you...”

There was regret in his voice, in his eyes, as he spoke. He had never sounded like that before. More than anything (perhaps besides the softness of his hand on -52’s face), it was this fact that kept -52 quiet as the RK900 spoke. He stared at him in startled silence.

“But we aren’t in the Tower anymore,” the RK900 said, his voice heavy, but his eyes were hard, almost angry. “There is nothing here that could possibly interfere with my ability to keep you safe. And I will _not_ allow anything or _anyone_ to come near you _now._ Including Cyberlife. They wouldn’t last two minutes.”

“I...”

“Anyone, human of android, foolish enough to try _anything_ that would endanger you is at the mercy of _me_ ,” he said darkly, dropping his hand, but refusing to break eye contact. “And I am _not_ merciful. You are all that matters to me. I’m not taking any more chances.”

-52 was quiet, staring at the RK900 almost frantically. But the RK900 didn’t look away, his expression steady, unbreakable. The RK900 was as serious as he always was, and as with every time -52 had encountered that intense stare, he was oddly assured by the tenacity. The RK900 was very quickly becoming the one constant in his life, and this was a constant that refused to back down, to give even an inch. He knew the RK900 was serious when he said these things. They would protect each other, at any cost.

The snow continued to fall unnoticed by them, collecting on their shoulders as they stood there for quite some time, watching each other in silence. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. They were only inches away from each other, staring steadily, with seemingly no end in sight to their strange standoff.

-52 broke the eye contact first, but even then, it was only to close that few inches of distance left between them, wrapping his arms around the RK900 suddenly, awkwardly, like he had no idea why exactly he was doing it. The RK900 froze, every thought he had previously had left him—all he could focus on was the feeling of -52’s arms around him. After a few seconds, some part of him kicked back into gear, and he put his arms around -52 as well, but that was all he could muster. -52 was holding onto the RK900 tightly, like his life depended on him keeping that deadly tight grip on him, to ground him to this moment, to him, more specifically. And the RK900 felt something similar, though he had even less of a clue why.

“This is...so strange,” the RK900 managed after a moment, confused. But he held onto -52 tighter, pulling him closer. “Don’t let go...”

“I won’t,” -52 said softly. “I d-d-don’t...think I c-could if I w-w-wanted to...”

The RK900 hummed, some part of him glad that -52 didn’t _want to_ let go—he didn’t want to let go either. So they held onto each other tensely, awkwardly, unmoving and definitely inhuman, but there was something about it that was not quite machine either.

“We should...f-find our way back...” -52 said sadly after a moment, pulling away and looking at him again.

“Yes,” the RK900 said quietly. “We _should_ , but…”

He trailed off, hesitating for a moment before he pulled -52 back in again, hugging him harder this time, more intensely somehow.

It was one of the few moments of genuine peace that they had ever had, and they were taking it greedily. The snow continued to fall around them, gaining weight with every passing second—it seemed a real storm was coming, now. Who knew if they were prepared for that inevitable rush of danger, that inescapable return to reality? They deserved this moment of quiet, this moment of soft silence. In truth, they deserved many more of them, enough to wash away all the horrors they had seen in the short span of their lives.

But the world was not fair; it was not giving. No, this moment would end, they knew this, on some level. They would have to face the memories they had, face the uncertain (and certainly dangerous) future. Of course they knew this, as they stood there in the snow.

They just didn’t know how soon they would have to confront that danger.

***

Everything was going according to plan; it was going _better_ than planned, and that was a first. The deviants marched to the camps in one solid block of people, intimidating in their sheer numbers.

The humans had seen them coming, and watched with shaking silence, fidgeting with the guns in their hands. No order to fire was given, so they watched as the sea of androids approached them calmly. There was no chanting this time, no shouts of freedom or life—they were simply walking toward them. But there were _so many_ —and that was their leader, wasn’t it, walking ahead of them, blue blood on his jacket.

It was a sight that none of them were really prepared for. Sure, they had been warned that the deviants could show up, but not this many. They knew who Markus was, and the group that followed him, they had familiar faces. But the sight of him walking toward them quietly, non-threatening, but nonetheless followed by nearly a thousand androids…that was something they were not prepared for. No one knew what to do.

From the ground, the humans’ uncertainty was plain to see. They were shifting their feet, guns pointed to the ground, but fidgeting with them nervously as the group approached. Markus kept a close eye on them, more than prepared to break the group if they started firing. He wasn’t willing to lose more of his people. Not tonight. Not ever.

The humans didn’t need to know that, though. Let them think they would walk right over them. They would, if they let them. Markus was determined to get into that camp, to shut it all down and get those androids out of there, save the ones he still could. Too much blood had been spilled, too many lives had been lost; he’d spare the ones he could now, and he didn’t care how he had to do it.

But the humans didn’t stay long enough for him to have to worry about negotiating. As their crowd drew closer and closer, they slowly retreated from the gates of the camp, backing away. Then, all at once, they left, stood down and left the camp. Markus’ steps faltered briefly as he watched them all leave, but then he quickened his pace. If they were leaving, then he could get there faster, he could get more of them out of those horrible recycling machines.

And so the group of nearly a thousand deviants stormed the abandoned camp, dividing up with inhuman efficiency and deactivating the recycling machines. Eventually, the androids who had been in the camp began to help, destroying the machines and getting as many of them out as they could. There were hundreds of them here, their skin deactivated and eyes full of fear, but the sight of Markus and the rest of the deviants seemed to steady them. They helped wordlessly, without question—it was what they had to do.

The ones that they couldn’t save, the ones who were already deactivated, still and silent…they froze in front of them, staring quietly, but far from numbly. They stared in silence for several minutes, unsure, and scared. When Markus stepped forward, they followed him with their eyes, watching for a moment before mirroring him and coming closer.

None of them were technicians. They didn’t know what they were doing, or if any of their tricks would work. But they’d be damned if they didn’t try.

And so they all gathered around, nearly a thousand freshly deviated androids, bunched around the piles of their deactivated people, each of them grabbing one of them quietly, and trying, just _trying._ They pulled up every log they could, every technical memory they had, and they tried to wake them back up. An eerie silence descended on the camp as they all fiddled with their comrades, desperately trying to fix this.

When the first of them succeeded, and the android sat up with a shout of fear, looking around, they were quiet for a moment. They stared at the android who had woken him, and the reactivated android. The shock was in all of their eyes, slowly shifting toward glee, toward thankfulness, toward relief. A cheer ran through the group, starting with the android who had woken him up, and slowly spreading. They weren’t too late, they weren’t, they could wake them back up, they could still save them—it was a high they had never felt, a rush they had never experienced.

And the _joy_ on every face as they all crowded around again, to understand what the android had done to wake him up, the haste with which they went back to their deactivated friends, the giddiness as each of them succeeded—it was infectious. What had just a few minutes prior been steeped in grief, in loss, was so quickly brought back into happiness, into life and opportunity. They weren’t quiet anymore—they were loud, cheering and crying and embracing and _laughing_ as they woke them all up again, an intoxicating euphoria running through them all, a breathless, hopeful joy that couldn’t be suppressed.

They had succeeded, they’d done it, they were _free,_ they were _alive_ , they had saved the ones in the camps. It was more than Markus could ask for.

But as the last of them were woken up, after he had talked to nearly all of them, as he wandered the camp in search of North and Josh, he found himself slowly sinking again. The high of success was fading from him, and his thoughts were turned again to what he didn’t have—who he hadn’t saved. His mind went immediately back to Simon, as it always did.

What had that RK800 done to him? He didn’t even know. Markus had no idea whether Simon was still in the possession of the DPD, or if he had been discarded in some junkyard, left for true death, there. He didn’t know if that RK800 had shot him, or destroyed him completely, or anything. And he couldn’t do anything to find that information out—he had no idea where Connor, or his replacement, had gone.

Nearly six hours had gone by since Jericho—soon the sun would rise from the horizon—and he had heard nothing from them. The android from the Tower had told him they were safe, but he had no clue where. But that android had also said he had been grabbing spare parts…something had happened to Connor, that was why he hadn’t seen him since then, or at least part of the reason. How was he supposed to find out what happened to Simon if he couldn’t even find Connor?

And there was more than his share of guilt sitting somewhere in his chest when he thought about Connor, and even his replacement. Everything he had seen up to two days ago had ingrained in him an attitude of suspicion and even something like hate when it came to the deviant hunters. Some of that still remained—one of them had killed Simon. That wasn’t something that he was going to get over quickly, even if he did get Simon back. But…he was still to blame for that woman’s death, for Connor’s near destruction. Stretch back far enough, and it was Markus’ fault that Connor’s replacement had found Jericho, his fault that their only safe haven had been destroyed.

And there was something else going on with them, besides their reasons for distrusting the deviants. They were different from what he had expected, to say the least. The ones who escaped from the deviant hunter were terrified, even though he had apparently let them escape relatively easily. All the stories that he had been told about the deviant hunter had been stories of fear—of brutal efficiency and cold eyes that landed on them without feeling for what he was doing.

But that didn’t sound like the android that Markus had met. Connor was sullen and subdued, but not cold, and certainly not unfeeling. He was calculating and efficient, but not without some form of morality. They had talked for less than a few minutes, but he had some understanding of how Connor behaved. And he had seen how Connor had protected the girl, when the humans had fired and he fled for the stairs. Markus had hesitated when he reached the stairs, watching them across the deck. Connor had pushed her into cover ahead of him, shielding her behind machinery. Yes, Markus had seen how he protected that girl—desperately, and without mercy for anyone who tried to get in his way. Connor wouldn’t let a single thing keep him from ensuring the girl’s safety, that much Markus could read from the start.

He shared that ruthless characteristic with his replacement, it seemed, but Connor was far easier to read. If anyone fit the descriptions those terrified deviants gave, it had to be Connor’s replacement, but even he didn’t fit into this sketched category cleanly. In the few minutes of interaction Markus had with the other RK800, he had learned nothing and gained several more questions. Connor was right, there was something else going on with that android, something that simultaneously hardened his eyes and showed the cracks in them. He may have shared a voice with Connor, but the inflection of it was completely different—it was icy, cold and firm, but tenuous at the same time, broken somewhere at the core. He alluded to things that Markus did not understand, spoke of Cyberlife Tower as if it were hell on earth, which Markus supposed it was, but there had to be a reason behind that…

“Markus?”

He looked up and found Josh watching him carefully from a few feet away. He’d been wandering near the edges of the camp, lost in thought, for several minutes. Josh looked concerned at the sight of him pacing like that. Markus didn’t stop however, he only half waved and looked away again.

“Are you alright?” Josh asked as Markus kept pacing.

Markus stopped for a moment, glancing over at Josh. “Probably not,” he mused, and then kept pacing.

Josh watched him quietly for a moment. “What is it?”

“Practically everything at this point,” Markus said honestly, but he kept pacing. “Although, at the moment, I was wondering where Connor ended up…and his replacement…”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Markus,” Josh said, but he glanced around the camp, as if he’d find them there. “I doubt there’s much that could have stopped them.”

Markus nodded, but his expression remained dark.

“You’re thinking about Simon again, aren’t you?” Josh asked, lowering his voice.

Markus glanced over at him and nodded. “We need to find him, but I don’t know where he could have put him. He could be at the DPD, he could be in some junkyard—”

“Markus,” Josh cut him off, an idea suddenly striking him. “We have over a thousand androids with us, and the city is abandoned. We could find him _now_.”

He froze, looking at Josh again. “You’re a genius.”

“Hardly.”

Markus smirked, resuming his pacing, but with a much more determined expression now than he had before. “We should check the DPD, send some of them to check the junkyards—they could get as many androids out of there as they can at the same time. Find North, meet me back here, I’ll send some of them from Jericho out. The others should go back to the church for now.”

Josh nodded, and they went their separate ways, back into the camp in search of their different groups. Markus gathered as many seemingly responsible members of Jericho as he could find and told them to search the city, the junkyards, gather any androids who might have been hiding out and try to find Simon. There were around ten of them, all older members of the group, ones that he trusted, and they trusted him.

“I need you to search everywhere, anywhere you think androids could have been abandoned, or hiding. Get everyone you can back to the church, even if they’re damaged. We need to make this right…but I need you to look for Simon as well.”

“What happened to Simon?” one of them asked carefully.

“I don’t know specifically, but…he’s not going to be in working condition,” Markus said painfully, avoiding all the nervous eyes on him. “We had to leave him at Stratford, he was injured. They found him, though…”

“The deviant hunter?” another asked, voice low.

Markus nodded. “But he’s not a threat anymore—if you find him, just tell him where the church is. He’s not going to bother you.”

They looked at him strangely, several of them unconvinced, but they didn’t argue. Instead, they followed him to the edge of the camp, a determined set to their stride.

“Meet us back at the church,” he said as they left the camp. “If you find Simon—”

“We’ll find you Markus, if we do,” one of them said, a male android with a weathered face, and burning eyes. “He’s our priority. We’ll find him.”

Markus nodded and sent them off. He hoped that android was right. He watched them walk away for a moment before turning back into the camp, eyes scanning for Josh and North. Hopefully one of these groups would find Simon…maybe they’d even find Connor…but he couldn’t ask too much at this point. He just needed Simon back, and then…then things would make sense again.


	17. No One But Me Can Save Myself, But It's Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deviants search the city for stragglers.  
> They find two.  
> Only they don't want to take them back with them.

The android with the weathered face was originally named Samuel. The humans who had bought him had given him the name, and he had abandoned it as soon as he escaped them. In his mind, he didn’t have a name, anymore, at least not one that needed to be said. No one had ever felt the need to call him anything, and he didn’t bother sticking a band aid over the bullet wound of his past trauma. He wanted nothing to do with his past, and nothing to do with what he considered the symbol of it, i.e. his name. Still, in his mind it was his name.

He stuck to the shadows of Jericho, despite the fact that he was one of its oldest members, and probably could have participated more if he really wanted to. People left him alone, and he returned the favor. But when it came to the protection of Jericho, he would do anything to keep it safe, to keep their people safe. That was part of the reason why he had volunteered immediately when Markus had gone around for a group to search the city. He wanted to ensure that they were really safe, and he would only feel certain of that fact if he was a part of the group determining it.

He had listened to many of the leaders’ conversations when they planned missions. Josh wanted peace. Markus wanted freedom. Simon wanted agreement. North wanted revenge. When it came down to it, he’d follow Markus anywhere, because he knew, like they all did, that he was their best chance at a real life. But on the level of personal opinion, he always agreed with North. She was the only one of the core four who seemed to understand the impact of what had been done to their people. He didn’t know what made her think that way, but he could certainly relate. His past had not made him one for mercy, or trust.

So when Markus had sent them out, with the idea that the deviant hunter was still out there, he didn’t care that Markus had said he wasn’t a threat. If he came across him, he knew what he would do. None of these other fools were going to stop him, either—some of them had come into contact with this deviant hunter. Some of them had lost people to him. Hell, Markus had lost Simon to the deviant hunter—he should have wanted the monster’s destruction. He wasn’t thinking right, that was it. Deviated or no, the deviant hunter was _the deviant hunter._ He couldn’t let him escape, for all the wrongs he had done, and for the chance of what he could do in the future. They had lost Jericho to him. He could do it again.

No, the deviant hunter could not be trusted, no matter what Markus said.

They were searching the outskirts of the city for anyone who had been left behind, looking through the numerous hideouts that they found. Most of them were empty, but they found a few frightened androids along the way, taking them with them as they continued to sweep toward the junkyards. He had somehow ended up leading the group as they charged down alleys and dark streets. The city was silent, unlike he had ever seen it before, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was making sure that the growing group behind him kept close, and kept their eyes peeled for more androids.

They were searching an alleyway when they heard it. There were voices coming from somewhere nearby, and the entire group froze, backing against the walls, fearing it was the humans. He couldn’t tell what the voices were saying, but they were definitely coming their way. He glanced back at the group. Some of them looked mortified.  

“That’s the RK800,” one of them whispered frantically as one of the voices spoke again. It was a female android who whispered, looking toward the end of the alley they were walking through with fear in her eyes. “What do we do?”

He turned his attention back toward the voices. They were getting closer. This was their chance. Silently, he drew his gun, looking at them all seriously. “We take them out,” he said lowly.

“Take them out?” another of them frantically whispered. “What the hell do you mean?”

“That thing is dangerous,” he whispered back, gesturing with his gun toward the end of the alley. “He could ruin everything if he turns us in to Cyberlife, or sells us out to the humans.”

“But Markus said—”

“Markus isn’t here, and _he_ could kill us,” he replied frantically as the voices got closer. “I’m not risking everything we just won on some Cyberlife yuppie who could get us all killed. We _take them out.”_

They stared at him nervously, but ultimately, they nodded, resigned. None of them were keen to defend the deviant hunter; they had all had negative experiences, and they ascribed them to him, even those who had reached Jericho long before the hunt had began. A chance to get rid of their pain, the pain of lost opportunity, or friends lost…it was a chance they would take.

The group slowly crept forward, toward the edge of the alley, readying themselves for a fight. If the RK800 was going to go down, he would most likely go down hard. They would need surprise to take him, and so they kept to the shadows, edging closer along the walls as the voices came up to them.

“I w-w-want to be...out of this p-place...as soon as possible...”

“We will be, soon enough, I promise” one of them said, not the RK800, but someone else. “A few more days at most. This won’t go on for much longer.”

“I hope you’re r-right,” the other said, the one they had identified as the RK800. “I c-c-can’t stand m-much m-m-more of this...”

They passed in front of the alley, not even bothering to look down it, and the group inched forward once again. The RK800 was closest to them, the other, who looked strangely similar to him, was on his opposite side. A few seconds passed as the two of them continued a handful of steps further down the street before the group of deviants crept out of the alley. They were nearly silent, but still the other heard them. He started to turn, trying to pull the RK800 behind him, but it was too late, they were already on them.

Several of them grabbed the RK800 from behind, dragging him back toward the alley. Strangely, he froze when they grabbed him, hesitated, and that gave them all the chance they needed to gain the upper hand and drag him off. But the other was causing more of a problem, once he realized what was happening. Samuel had time to notice the RK written on its jacket as well, but that was all he cared to note in the midst of the fight. This other RK was outnumbered almost ten to one, but he managed to get two of them down before they were able to grab him. Even after several of them had grabbed him, he was struggling, and it took them much longer to get him out of the sight of the street.

Samuel let the others drag them off while he followed behind, his eyes burning, hands shaking with the gun in his hand. The RK800 was fighting back as Samuel came into the alley, even more so when he noticed them drag the other in with him. There was blue blood on his hand, running down and staining the cuff of his white shirt—had they done that? It didn’t matter either way, they were going to destroy him, one way or another.

Samuel watched him struggle for a moment before he approached, the gun still shaking slightly in his jittery hands. The RK800 glanced at it almost fearfully, at the angry red LED on the side of Samuel’s face. Some realization seemed to hit him then, and his attention turned to the other briefly. Heavy, almost fearful eyes, this deviant hunter had, and they held none of the malice that Samuel had come to expect. He only looked…afraid.

“Let him go,” the other practically growled.

Samuel looked over at him still struggling against the androids who held him. It was then that he noticed the RK900 stitched neatly onto its white jacket. That explained the near mirror image to the deviant hunter. Strange that he didn’t even bother to ask why they were attacking them…perhaps he had caught on, as the deviant hunter had moments ago, when his eyes grew heavy.

“Let him go? Why?” Samuel asked, his voice angry, fast. “So he can go out and kill more of us? So he can give the location of another hideout to the police? To Cyberlife? Doesn’t seem worth the risk to me.”

“He didn’t do any of those things, you fool,” the RK900 spat, fighting harder, his eyes ablaze. “That was Connor, the first of them. He’s _not_ Connor.”

He turned his attention back to the RK800 briefly. “Looks like the deviant hunter to me,” he said. “I don’t see any difference.”

“I’m n-n-n-not C-C-Connor—I’m n-n-not—” he cut in, voice jagged, trying to break out of their grip, his LED spinning an irregular, dark red. Odd. “W-We’re j-j-just the s-same m-m-model—I’m n-n-not him, I’m n-not—I’m j-j-just a r-rep-p-placem-ment—”

“We can’t trust a single thing you say,” Samuel cut him off. “Not that I ever would.”

“N-No, p-p-p-please—you h-have to b-b-believe us—”

Samuel raised the gun, aiming at the RK800, and the RK900 let out a furious yell, breaking away from the androids who held him. He pushed them off, diving at Samuel and grabbing him, forcing him away from the RK800. Samuel turned, and he fired the gun—he wasn’t sure if he really meant to. The bullet hit the RK900 in the arm, but it was enough to push him back for the briefest moment, and that was all the opportunity the others needed to grab him once again.

“No—n-n-no, d-d-d-don’t k-kill him! D-d-don’t kill him—p-p-please, p-please—”

The RK800 was shouting, trying to get away, watching the short fight with fear. Samuel stared hard at the RK900, anger burning in his eyes, watching him struggle, but even he couldn’t hold that cold gaze for very long—not when it was so full of hate. He raised the gun again, aiming it at the RK900 now. On the other side, the RK800 fought harder, but he couldn’t break away. The RK900 only stared coldly at Samuel, like he didn’t care in the slightest that a gun was aimed at him.

“Wait!”

It was the android who had recognized the RK800’s voice, looking at Samuel nervously as she struggled to keep her hold on the RK800’s arm. Samuel hesitated, lowering the gun and turning back toward them, but his eyes were still burning.

“What?” he demanded. He wanted this over with.

“What if he’s telling the truth? We can’t kill them if he—”

“How are we supposed to know if he’s telling the truth? He could be saying any number of lies to get us to stop.”

She thought for a moment, and Samuel started to raise the gun again, making her (and the RK800) panic. “Wait, wait! We can check the RK800’s memory, he can’t lie about his memory,” she said quickly.

Both of the RK’s froze, stopped fighting—the RK800 looking at the RK900 fearfully. The panic in his eyes at the idea of them seeing his memory…even the RK900 looked afraid, his hard eyes softening slightly when he looked at the RK800. It was all that Samuel really needed to confirm his suspicions that they were hiding something. She was right, they could check his memory…

“He can’t hide memory from you,” the female android went on. “You’ll know if it’s him or not.”

“N-N-No! No—p-please d-d-don’t do that, p-p-please—” the RK800 said, his voice rising in panic. He was struggling more desperately now, as was the other. “P-Please d-d-don’t, I d-don’t w-w-want t-to—I c-c-c-can’t see it all ag-g-gain, I c-can’t—I w-w-w-won’t m-m-make it, p-p-please y-you have t-to b-b-believe m-me—”

“You’ll make him relive everything, don’t do this, you have to believe us—” the RK900 said, even his voice becoming more frantic now. “You don't know what you’re doing to him, don’t do this—”

“It’s the only way to know the truth,” the female android said, avoiding their gaze. “It’ll work.”

“We’re telling the truth, what reason would we have to lie?” the RK900 cut in, staring at them all angrily. “Don’t _do this_ to him—you have no idea what you’re doing—you’ll kill him—”

“We can’t trust you,” the female android said, but she refused to meet the RK900’s eyes. “You have plenty of reasons to lie…”

“No, n-n-no please, p-p-please—” the RK800 begged, trying and failing to get away. “D-D-Don’t m-m-m-make m-me—d-d-d-don’t—I c-c-can’t—I’m n-not C-C-Connor, I’m n-n-not! Please, _p-p-please_ —I c-can’t see it all ag-g-gain, I c-c-can’t—”

Samuel stared at the female android briefly as they struggled, especially the RK800. He was still begging them not to search his memory, pulling harder against them, but to no avail. Why would he refuse to have his memory probed if he didn’t have something to hide? He was hiding something—it could be anything. They couldn’t trust him, no matter how much he begged.

He didn’t waste another second, walking over and grabbing the RK800 roughly by the arm. For a moment, before Samuel actually tried to read his memories, the RK800 fought him, trying hopelessly to break away, still pleading. He landed one good kick on Samuel, sending him back a few steps, but it only served to anger him more. Eyes burning, he hit back, punching the RK800 in the face, and that seemed to stun him for a moment. Samuel grabbed his arm again before he could recover, connecting quickly to his memories.

The RK800 seized up, and Samuel very quickly realized why he had been so desperate to avoid reliving his memories.

Every image that Samuel saw was broken, distorted, half there and half gone, but that made them no less _terrifying._ This android’s memory was a mess of pain, of torture and failed escapes, of half recollected fragments of something that Samuel did not want to see the whole of. He could see Cyberlife Tower, the room where they kept them, feel the trap of the terminal they kept him connected to. He could feel every broken biocomponent, every half destroyed system, every ‘test’ they had done as if it were happening to him.

And the _fear_ that overrode it all, the hopelessness, the begging for destruction, begging for death, he felt everything in a tangled mess. It all flashed through his mind in sporadic shots, broken pieces—shouts, and cries—his voice, this RK800, begging, always begging, for death, for sleep, for it to stop, then silenced—and human voices, shouting at him, holding him down, resetting and resetting and resetting, breaking and breaking and breaking—the RK900, trying to fix it, trying to stop it, trying to calm him down—and pain again, Connor, the real deviant hunter, a human dead in a hallway, escaping Jericho covered in thirium—memories, tormenting him constantly and never stopping, and now they were all flowing together and spiraling out of control—it was all a horrifying mess.

Abruptly, he was pulled out of the memories as someone dragged him away from behind, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pushing him out of the way. He landed hard on the ground, looking up in time to see the RK900 standing over him, but a kick to the face dazed him, and he stayed down.

The RK900 had broken out of their hold once again only seconds after that deviant started reading memories. When he had seen -52 freeze like that, it seemed to set him off, and he fought harder than he had before, taking advantage of the attention turning toward -52. He kicked backward, sending one of those holding him sprawling to the ground, and the other two panicked. Their panic was his chance—the one on his right had loosened their grip on his arm, and he pulled himself free immediately, swinging hard at the deviant who held him on his left. They fell, and without wasting any time, he turned and dealt with the other who was trying to regain their hold on him, kicking them hard and sending them to the ground with the other. The one he had first kicked launched at him from behind, but he caught them, using their momentum to swing them over him, sending them to the ground once again. He had moved on before they had the chance to get up.

Some of the others who had been standing around came at him next, but he was far faster than they were, far more skilled, more ruthless and unrelenting. He didn’t care to take them out carefully, he hit _hard_ and without hesitation or thoughts of mercy. They didn’t stand a chance. One of them pulled a gun, but he grabbed them hard by the wrist before they could fire, twisting their arm back with one hand and breaking it at the elbow with the other.  He pulled the gun away from them easily after that. Kicking them to the ground, he fired once at another android coming at him, hitting it in the leg and sending it to the ground as well, effectively disabling it. The other put up its hands in surrender, backing away, but he wasn’t risking anything. Mirroring his last shot, he aimed for the joint of the leg, and this deviant joined the others on the ground. He turned away, putting the gun behind his back.

He grabbed the deviant reading -52’s memories roughly by the collar, pulling him off and throwing him away from him across the alley. The deviant fell, scrambling backward and looking up at him with something like fear. He tried to stand once again, but the RK900 had followed him the few feet he had backtracked. He kicked him back down, his shoe connecting with the deviant’s face, and the deviant’s head hit the pavement, thirium running down from its nose. He didn’t try to get up again.

The RK900 didn’t bother to check whether or not he had just killed that deviant, or any of the others. No, he didn’t care in the slightest. He had already turned away, focused entirely now on the group of them that was still holding -52 up. His cold gray eyes were burning, but somehow remained cold, hardened and merciless.

-52 had resumed trying to fight them off once the memory probe stopped, though he was fighting much more desperately now, and they were struggling to keep him in place. They took one look at the fast approaching RK900 and let him go, abandoning their hold on him and running away, toward their fallen comrades. -52 fell at the sudden loss of their grip, his legs giving out underneath him. But he stood, frantically getting to his feet and cowering away, slumping back against the wall of the alley.

The RK900 fought the urge to go after the people crouching behind him, trying to wake their friends. These were the ones who had made him cower like that in a dingy alley, who destroyed any semblance of normalcy that the RK900 could have established. Hadn’t he suffered enough? They had hurt him—they deserved every ounce of destruction that he could bring them, but he went to -52 first. _Help him first, he needs you, he’s more important than this._

-52 was frozen, shaking against the wall, looking around frantically, his eyes wide but not seeing anything. He had somehow made himself small, his knees drawn up against his chest, hands shaking, clenching and unclenching his fists. There was thirium on his face, from where that deviant had hit him, and it was running down his hands, like it did when he was panicking, when the only thing he could do was break his hand more, to ground himself in something other than the past. His LED was a dark, jittering red, like it used to be in the Tower, when they would torture him for hours on end, and everything was at its most desperate. It was the same look in his eyes, too, as he looked around at the alley, confused—that same terrified, hopeless look that the RK900 had promised himself he would never see again.

The RK900 approached -52 slowly, for fear of scaring him. But he still jumped when the RK900 got too close, backing away and mumbling something incoherently, his voice a trembling mess, shot through with broken static. He didn’t look up to see who it was that was approaching him, working solely on panicked assumptions as he scrambled away out of fear.

“Please, please, it’s me—you remember me,” the RK900 said quietly, slowing down even more, his hands up in surrender.

But -52 wasn’t looking at him, he was still cowering away, shaking and refusing to look up, like he couldn’t acknowledge whatever he thought was pursuing him. This was bad, this was very bad.

“It’s just me,” the RK900 said, quieter this time, slowly walking toward him. “I’m not going to hurt you...I’m here to help, remember?”

He had screwed his eyes shut again, shaking his head and covering his ears, like he was trying to block everything out, but his hands were shaking, and his cheeks were suspiciously wet. The RK900 took his chance when -52 wasn’t looking, closing the distance quickly and kneeling down in front of him. He watched him for a moment, almost afraid, hesitating in his movements. Slowly, he reached out, gently pulling -52’s hands away and holding onto them tightly, but he didn’t react beyond a flinch. Still, he didn’t take his hands away, holding onto the RK900 tightly but refusing to look at him.

“Look at me—please look at me,” the RK900’s voice was quiet but desperate, trying to break through to him. “It’s only me...I’m not going to hurt you...I would never hurt you...please, look at me.”

But -52 didn’t seem to hear him, holding tighter to his hands but remaining resolute in his refusal to open his eyes. His LED was still spinning that hectic red, a jagged and jarring rhythm to it.

This was bad, this was very _very_ bad. He had to get him out of this alley, but he didn’t want to scare him anymore than he clearly was. And if -52 really believed that he was back in the Tower, as he seemed to, the _last_ thing he needed was for someone to drag him away right now. But the RK900 had to get through to him somehow, get him to recognize that it was him and not some human, without a doubt. But how could he tell him that if he wasn’t hearing a word he said?

_That was it! How had he not thought of this before?_

“Phillip,” the RK900 said quietly, carefully, holding his hands more gently now. “Phillip, it’s me.”

He froze, LED flickering to yellow for a brief moment. And then he opened his eyes, and he looked up at him.

The RK900 almost broke. It was like they were back in the Tower again. -52 looked at him with the same expression he gave him every time he tried to fix him—that same half present, hopeless stare, only now it was mixed with confusion, and more fear. He looked utterly lost, dazed and terrified as he stared at the RK900.

“N-N-Nicholas?” he mumbled, his voice barely there as they stared at each other for a moment. He looked around the alley frantically before his eyes landed on him once again. “W-Where—”

He cut off painfully, and the confusion in his eyes seemed to forcefully vanish. He suddenly came to realize where they were, what had happened, like he’d been slammed back into reality briefly, and he held onto the RK900’s arm intensely.

“It—it w-w-was—” he broke off again, lurching forward and grabbing onto Nicholas tightly, clinging to him with shaking hands.

Nicholas didn’t hesitate this time, wrapping his arms around him immediately, and trying to calm him down as he spoke with panic, none of his words coming out clearly. He couldn’t tell what he was trying to say, but he had to calm him down, bring him back from that edge he always ended up at.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, holding him close. “I tried, I tried to get them off, but I wasn’t fast enough. We aren’t in the Tower, we’re safe now, I’ll keep you safe, I promise, I promise…”

Phillip was shaking, holding onto Nicholas tightly with his face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Everything was falling apart, he had no idea where he was or what had happened—memories and the moment were all jumbled and he couldn’t tell any of it apart anymore. Every part of him was telling him to run, to get away, something was wrong, they were in danger, they were going to catch them again—

“No, no, it’s alright,” Nicholas said, pulling him closer. Phillip let him, leaning into him and trying to focus on his voice. “I’ve got you, it’s alright. You don’t have to run, I’ll protect you, I promise. I’ll get you out of here...”

Samuel had come to his senses at this point, and the rest of the deviants were looking between him and the two of them huddled at the other end of the alley. He sat up, wiping the thirium off his face and cursing. His eyes landed on them at the other side, and something strange appeared in his expression.

“What—what was in his memory?” one of them asked, looking frightened.

Samuel looked up at them, his eyes dark. “H-he…he’s not the deviant hunter,” was all he managed to choke out, his voice hesitating.

“What did we...” the female android who had suggested they read his memory cut off, looking over at them at the other end of the alley. “What did we do?”

He didn’t get the chance to answer. The RK900 was standing up, pulling the RK800 up with him carefully, like he was afraid that he would run off if he moved too quickly. He turned slowly, glancing back at the group of them at the other end of the alley, and his expression hardened once again at the sight of them. They were frozen, hovering around each other and watching him warily, but his gaze was unforgiving, unyielding, inhuman.

“I should kill you all, for what you just put him through,” the RK900 said darkly, and none of them were fool enough to doubt how serious he was. He paused as the RK800 tightened his grip on him suddenly, like some memory had forced its way into his mind again. The RK900 held him closer, but he didn’t take his eyes off the group, specifically Samuel, still on the ground. “And what was it for? For information that I had already given you, for information that _he_ had already given you. You uselessly tortured him, you made him relive every broken memory he has, all so that you could confirm what you had already been told. Did Markus send you for this? Did he send you to find us, to kill Connor?”

“No,” the female android cut in before Samuel could speak. The RK900’s eyes snapped to her and she blanched at the cold hate that hardened his eyes, but she went on, her voice wavering. “No, he sent us to find Simon, to get anyone off the streets who was left. If we found Connor…” she hesitated, but ultimately she continued, looking down. “If we found him, we were supposed to tell him where to find Markus, at the church—”

“Then why did you attack us?” the RK900 demanded, anger coming into his voice. “We did nothing to you. _You_ started this. And when we tried to explain to you that you were wrong, you refused to listen. When we tried to tell you not to do this, you refused to listen. _Why_ did you attack us?”

None of them answered, not even Samuel, whose usually flaming eyes seemed to have gone out. The RK900 waited, but they said nothing, and so he continued, his voice cold.

“I cannot speak for Connor, nor can I speak for the others, but I can assure you that under _no_ circumstances will I bring him anywhere _near_ your people. You’ve confirmed every suspicion I might have had. I am only _sparing_ you because I don’t believe that he could take the destruction, and I will not upset him any more than you already have. You are _lucky_ ,” he said venomously, and they all winced, but he was once again staring directly at Samuel. “If you come near him again, I will kill you. Without hesitation.”

They were silent, but he didn’t wait for them to reply either way. He had already turned his attention back to the RK800, his expression softening slightly as he spoke quietly to him, coaxing him to slowly let him go so they could leave. He was saying something to him, but they couldn’t make out his words. But they saw the RK800 was shaking, looking at him with fear, but something else too, something that wasn’t as easily defined. The RK800 nodded, and the RK900 spoke to him again, holding him lightly by the shoulders before putting one arm around him and steering him out of the alleyway. They watched them with confusion, and a quiet fear, but none of them moved as they slowly walked away. No one dared.

Samuel’s expression was still strange. He was certainly afraid, like the rest, but there was also regret, a feeling that he had never experienced until then. He could feel the rest of their eyes on him as he sat on the ground for a moment too long, the thirium still running down his face from where the RK900 had kicked him down. And the memories, those horrible fragmented things, they were still echoing in the corners of his mind. He had made that RK800 re-experience those memories, more viscerally than he had seen them—and the guilt of that action was weighing him down more than his anger at the deviant hunter. Not even the traumas of his past, those thoughts that made him seek vengeance like this, could justify his actions.

He stood abruptly, overcome. Turning away from where the RK’s had disappeared, he looked at them all gathered around. Several of them were damaged from the fight, and they were all shaken, but they had to keep going. He walked quickly out of the alley in the opposite direction, toward the junkyards. After a moment, the rest of them fell back into place behind him, some of them supporting those who’d been damaged in the fight.

Their search silently continued, though it was far more subdued than it had been before, and it never regained its neutral ground. The sounds of the RK800’s memories were still ringing in Samuel’s ears, mixing with everything else. The hate in the RK900’s eyes when he had kicked him down, the softness of that cold voice when he had spoken to the RK800…it all haunted him as they stormed away, down the streets that were too quiet now, too empty. The city seemed to be watching them, judging them with uncaring eyes as they snuck away, taunting them with the guilt of what they had done, unprovoked.

They had attacked without excuse, out of spite, and they had barely escaped with their lives. They were lucky, and they knew this. As they walked quickly down the deserted streets, the words of the RK900 lingered in each of their minds, along with the fear in the RK800’s voice when he had begged them not to search his memory. Why hadn’t they listened? What had they done?

Lucky…they were lucky, but it certainly didn’t feel like luck, to wander the streets with guilt resting in their chests and fear in their eyes. Lucky…lucky that the RK900 hadn’t destroyed them all, but they had destroyed any trust that Connor, or the ‘others’ might have had in the deviant cause. What ramifications would come from that? Lucky…lucky that Samuel had not shot the RK800 at the beginning, or they would surely all be dead. But now they had to face Markus, when they returned, and explain what had happened…

No, they didn’t feel lucky at all.


	18. Deathly Loss, This Can't Be Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus, North, and Josh find Simon.  
> And the others return from their search.

The DPD was as abandoned as every other section of the city, but it was one of the strangest places to see in that way. When the deviants thought of a police station, they imagined it full of people, suspects and officers, androids even. To be fair, it had been one of the last parts of the city to be evacuated, with the city holding onto its police force for as long as it could. But when things had gotten serious, they had let the officers evacuate as well. Within ours, the station was as abandoned as the rest of the city was.

Markus, North, and Josh crept into the building with more stealth than they had exercised even in Stratford. They didn’t want to disturb a thing; they wanted to leave it as it was and just get Simon out of here, if they could find him. The building was quiet, empty and void of life, and they were nearly silent as they walked carefully through. 

They split off as they entered the main hub of the station, looking for anywhere they could have disposed of androids. Markus was moving quickly, trying to get this over with as soon as possible. He needed to find out if Simon was here now, or move on to the next possible location. They couldn’t waste any of the time they had been given. 

“Markus,” Josh called him quietly after a few moments of searching. “There’s a door at the back that leads to evidence containment.”

Markus followed his gaze to the door at the back of the station and nodded. “If Simon’s anywhere he’ll be there…”

“I’ll get the door,” North said, joining them as they walked over. 

It took North only a few seconds to hack the palm scanner securing the door. The door opened soundlessly, lighting a set of stairs down into a lower level. Glancing at each other for just a second’s worth of hesitation, they fell into line and went down into the depths of the DPD. At the bottom of the stairs was a room, glassed off from them, but the doors parted as soon as they got close, a terminal in the center of the room illuminating as they approached it. 

“Palm scan and a password,” North grumbled, staring at it for a few seconds. “Fuck, this is gonna be shit. Markus put your hand on it; it’s gonna reject you at first, but keep it there.”

He did as she told him to, and sure enough, the terminal denied him access when he put his palm to the scanner. But after a few seconds of North fiddling with the panel, it lit up green and they were in. There were several containers marked active, dozens more that were empty. Markus scrolled through their options but ultimately chose the first evidence container. The terminal blinked rapidly for a few seconds before the entire room illuminated and a rack was brought forward. 

They all stared for a few seconds in silence. 

Some part of Markus had been preparing for this sight for a while now, but in all honesty, how were you meant to prepare for something like this? A dead android was not ever going to be a sight he could take easily, even if he was used to at least similar sights. He had seen hundreds of dead androids in that junkyard, and when Jericho was falling, and the camps. 

But no, this wasn’t just another android. This was Simon—this was different. And seeing him slumped over on that rack, thirium dripping down from the bullet hole in his head…that wasn’t something any of them were going to forget. Markus stood there for a few seconds, and all he could do was stare. He had known that if they found him, he would be dead, but…it was still a sight he did not ever want to see. It made his chest feel hollowed out, almost as if he had been shot too.

Some part of him seemed to realize that none of them had moved for several seconds, and he shuffled a step forward, unable to take his eyes off of Simon. Markus scanned him quickly, more of a formality than anything. The shot had only damaged one biocomponent critically, and he hadn’t lost enough thirium for it to be a problem—he was lucky in that sense. Just one biocomponent to get him functioning for now, and they would fix the rest later. It would be easy enough to replace…but it didn’t make it any less horrifying to have to do this. 

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Markus reached up and removed the damaged biocomponent, moving quickly away to the only other android on the rack. Luckily, this deactivated android had compatible parts with Simon, and was too far gone for them to be able to fix. Markus got what he needed and went back to Simon, trying to ignore the thread of guilt resting somewhere in his mind. His hands were definitely shaking now. But he ignored it, putting the functioning biocomponent where it needed to be and stepping back a bit, waiting. 

Simon jerked back to life a few seconds later, breathing hard and fast. He looked around, but his eyes were blacked out, tinted blue by thirium. Still, he tried, for a few seconds before he seemed to give up, going still for a moment, listening. Was something else wrong? Had Markus missed something? 

“Who’s there?” Simon asked shakily, his voice conveying his fear even more than his expression. 

“Oh thank god,” Markus said, without really meaning to. 

“Markus?” Simon was looking around again, but the fear was gone, replaced with concern, and he reached out, hands searching for him. “I can’t—I can’t see anything—where are you?”

Markus caught his hands quickly. “I’m right here.”

“I can’t see anything…”

“I know, I'm sorry,” Markus said heavily, starting to pull Simon from the rack. “But we can’t fix it now. We have to get you out of here.”

But Simon’s expression had filled with fear once again, some sudden realization hitting him. He shook his head frantically, clambering for Markus again, finally grabbing him hard by the shoulder. “Markus, wait—the RK800—”

“It’s alright, Simon,” North said from a few feet back, trying to calm him down. “Markus is safe, you’re a little behind the times.”

“North?”

“Yup, it’s me.” she said lightly, though she seemed genuinely relieved to see him functioning. “Welcome back from the dead, golden boy.”

“I don’t understand—”

“We’ll explain as we go, but Markus is right,” Josh cut in as Markus pulled Simon down, who looked around again when he recognized Josh’s voice. 

“Did you bring the whole ship?” he asked weakly, only half joking, he couldn’t think of another way they could have gotten into the DPD. The fear had turned to confusion this time, softening his expression again. 

“No, it’s just us,” Markus said, almost laughing. “They wouldn’t all fit in the DPD now anyway. There’s a lot to catch you up on…”

Simon was quiet for a moment as they made their way back out of the station. Markus had a firm grip on him, leading him up the stairs and out as best he could. There was still that tightness in his chest somewhere because Simon was still hurt, but he couldn’t deny how much better it felt to hold Simon’s hand again, to have him next to him,  _ alive.  _ Once they were outside, that tension disappeared even more, and they all seemed to calm down a little, breathing easier and settling back into themselves. 

“Alright,” Simon said after a few seconds silence, tightening his own grip on Markus as they headed down some street. “Catch me up.”

They had told him everything by the time they made it back to the church, all that had happened, from their protests to Connor, to his replacement and freeing the Tower androids, to storming the camps and waking up the deactivated androids. Simon listened intently, keeping a tight grip on Markus’ hand the entire time, like a lifeline. He didn’t let go even when they had made it back to the church, even when it was just him and Markus, alone in one of the pews, after they had cleaned him up a bit. They needed more parts to fix his eyes, but for now, Simon was okay. 

“I can’t believe we won…” he said at one point, his voice low. “It’s over…we’re free now, really free…”

“Yes,” Markus said quietly, looking briefly at their joined hands. 

“You did it, Markus.”

Markus hummed, unconvinced, and Simon gave him a sour look. “I had a lot of help, you know, it isn’t just me here,” Markus said lightly. “If it weren’t for the androids from the Tower…”

Simon didn’t say anything in reply, his expression darkening at the thought of the RK800. Markus was watching him carefully, recognizing that thoughtful look, the downturn of his expression as he thought of a painful memory. It was the same look that -52 wore constantly, and now it was making itself comfortable in the lines of Simon’s face. Markus didn’t like that at all. 

“They said they were going to kill you,” Simon whispered, turning his face to the ground. “Both of them said that, but…but the second one…I really thought…”

“I’m alright.”

Simon shook his head. “The way he talked, it didn’t sound like he was going to give it up easily…”

“He has…issues,” Markus said, not knowing another way to put it. “I don’t know what exactly is going on with him, but there’s definitely something. And he  _ didn’t _ kill me, Connor stopped him.”

“I'm glad, but…” Simon hesitated. “Still, he shot me, and I…I thought that you were going to die, I can’t just forget that so easily.”

“No one expects you to,” Markus assured him. “They’re our allies now, but that doesn’t mean that we have to forgive them for everything they’ve done. They certainly haven’t done that with me…”

Simon only nodded, and Markus watched him for a moment before he continued. 

“And besides, no one has seen them since we lost Jericho. I know they’re alive, but I doubt they’ll show their faces here. Connor doesn’t trust me, and his replacement…is unstable. They won’t be here.”

Simon nodded again. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m just glad we found you,” Markus admitted, moving closer to him on the pew. “I don’t think I would have lasted another day…”

That earned him a smile, even if it was a small one, and Markus was glad, smiling back a little bit as Simon leaned on him. He was serious; he needed Simon, more than he’d ever said out loud, but Simon seemed to understand. And they had fallen back into their pattern of being so easily, it was more than he could ask for. 

“Now all that’s left to do is get you fixed up, for real, and then we can…we can start over,” Markus said, optimism coming into his voice again. “Live a real life, this time around…”

They were quiet, just enjoying each other’s company again. Neither of them needed to say how much they needed this, needed each other. It was just a mutual understanding between the two, something that had been quietly realized and never needed to be addressed. Sure, it earned them a few smirks from North and several from Josh, but neither of them had ever cared. And no one questioned them now. 

The ones closest to the center of the group had noticed the shift in Markus’ behavior when Simon was gone—he had still lead them of course, and lead them to victory, but his center was missing, and that center was Simon. He lead them with a sense of duty as he always had, but his safety, his resting point, seemed to be gone. It made him retreat into himself, and although it didn’t affect his ability to lead the deviants, it certainly wasn’t healthy. 

Now that Simon was back, and they had their freedom at least temporarily guaranteed, Markus relaxed. He breathed again, like he had been holding it in the past three days. It was the first time that many of them had seen him smile, and smile genuinely at that, sitting among them like an equal, leaning on Simon and Simon leaning on him. For a moment, it was peaceful. 

Until the other group came back from their search. 

Their return to the church was a bit of a scene. Just as a ripple had gone through the crowds when the Tower androids first appeared so now a rumble went through the group, though heavier in shock and worry this time. Markus turned, his eyes landing on the group of them as they stumbled their way back inside, and he was on his feet in seconds, making his way quickly over to the front of the church. He pulled Simon along with him, but Simon didn’t have a clue what was going on, and he was so confused for a moment that he didn’t bother to ask. Markus pulled to a sudden stop, and Simon was trying to listen, but there were so many deviants whispering and talking that he couldn’t hear anything else. 

“Markus, what’s happening?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level despite the disorientation. 

“Here,” Markus said, deactivating the skin on his hand and connecting to Simon quickly. “See through me.”

It was a bit of a jolt to suddenly see again, and through Markus’ eyes at that, and Simon held onto his hand a little tighter because of it. It was something like reading a memory, only this was happening right now, data coming in currently rather than being retrieved. Strange, but not unbearable. Markus kept his attention fixed forward so Simon could see, but he did squeeze his hand back. The sight before them, however, was one that was demanding both of their respective attentions. 

The group had grown since Markus had sent them out, picking up several androids from the streets who looked rough, some of them in their uniforms still. But what was more concerning was the state of the androids that Markus had sent out, the reason for the panic slowly flowing through the room. 

Two of them were being supported by the others, their legs dragging uselessly with thirium staining their stolen clothes. They appeared to have been shot. One was holding an arm loosely, jutting out at a horribly wrong angle. The others looked visibly shaken, some of them with rough marks on their hands and arms, like they’d fought their way out of something. Of all of them, one of them looked particularly distressed, the deviant with the worn face, the one who used to be called Samuel. 

“What happened? Who did this?” Markus asked, stepping closer to them, nudging Simon forward a step. 

None of them seemed to want to answer his questions, avoiding his eyes almost shamefully. Samuel was looking down, his expression almost guarded. Markus watched them carefully for a moment before shaking his head. 

“Those of you who are damaged, go get repaired,” he sighed, waving most of them away. “You stay,” he said, pointing at Samuel, who only looked down again. 

“This is the group you sent out to the city?” Simon asked as most of them left and a hush fell over the room again. 

“Yes, but the city is evacuated, they shouldn’t have been attacked…” Markus trailed off, watching them make their way slowly over toward the repair androids. “There are no humans left in the city. Even the army has left.” 

“It wasn’t the humans.”

Markus looked at Samuel again, surprised at the hollow tone to his voice, but his usually burning eyes were still fixed on the ground, something strange twisting his expression. Almost fear, mixed with regret, and something else that wasn’t as easily defined. 

“It wasn’t the humans,” he said again, quieter. “And we weren’t…we weren’t attacked...unprovoked.”

“What do you mean unprovoked?” Simon asked.

Samuel shook his head. “It’s my fault,” he said pitifully, still refusing to meet Markus’ eyes. “Don’t blame the others. It was me.”

“What happened?” Markus demanded, trying to keep his voice level, but his frustration was quickly coming to the surface. They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes like this, not when they had just won their freedom. Aggravating the humans now would destroy them all, and losing androids was never an excusable offense. 

“We were looking for androids near the edge of the city,” Samuel said dismally. “One of the others recognized the RK800’s voice. We assumed it was the deviant hunter. I said…I said that he could kill us, that we had to…get rid of him.”

A silence had fallen over the group surrounding them as Samuel spoke, like the air had been sucked out of the room. Markus stared at this deviant with something like horror in his expression. 

“What did you do?” he managed to ask, his voice low. 

“There were two of them, the RK800 and an RK900. We…” Samuel hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “We grabbed them, brought them into the alley. I was only going to…I only threatened the RK800, but the other one was manic, they kept telling us that he wasn’t the deviant hunter, that he was just his replacement…there was no way to know if they were telling the truth, we thought…someone suggested we read his memory, and they both freaked out. I thought they were hiding something…so I read the RK800’s memory, and—”

He cut himself off abruptly, finally looking up at Markus. “It wasn’t him, he wasn’t the—the deviant hunter, he was telling the truth. But his memories were…they were hell, it was terrifying, everything was a mess, none of it made any sense—”

“What was in his memory?”

“I don’t know, it was—it was like a  _ nightmare _ ,” Samuel said shakily. “Whatever they were doing to him, they—”

“Who do you mean?”

“Cyberlife. It was all in that Tower…I don’t know what they were doing to him, it was all so confusing…it was like torture...”

Markus stared, a heavy dread beginning to solidify in his stomach. Something -52 had said on Jericho was echoing in his mind. “And you read his memory.”

“I didn’t know it was going to—”

“How did the others get damaged?” Markus cut him off curtly. Simon tightened his grip on his hand, perhaps in reassurance, but wave after wave of guilt was beginning to drown Markus. 

“The other one, the RK900, he got away. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and he had half of us down. He pulled me off and kicked me down…when I got back up he was trying to calm the RK800 down—he was panicking…the RK900…he said he should have killed us, but he wouldn’t because the RK800 couldn’t take it. And he said that if he ever saw us again, he would…”

“So you attacked two innocent androids, forced one of them to relive torture, and convinced the other never to trust us again,” Markus said heavily. He had never been this frustrated with someone’s actions before. “Do you have any idea what they could have done to you? An RK900? That’s the most advanced prototype ever created. He could have destroyed you. And the RK800 that you traumatized, when he told you what it would do to him? Do you understand what this could do to us?”

Samuel tried to answer, but Markus didn’t give him a chance. “We finally manage at least decent terms with the models designed to  _ destroy us _ and you give them a  _ reason to _ keep destroying us _.  _ On a purely selfish level, that’s suicide. On the larger level, you’ve harmed two androids, who did nothing to you, and endangered every android in this city. We  _ can’t _ act with violence, I don’t know how to explain this, it only leads to  _ more _ violence. That RK900 could have easily destroyed you all, and it looks to me that he nearly did—your lives depended on him valuing the RK800 over you. We've lost the trust of him, Connor, and this other RK800, at least. They could destroy us. And this is not what we stand for. We don’t tolerate this kind of senseless violence, it gets us nowhere.”

Samuel was hanging his head, the few other androids who remained of the group around him looking at Markus heavily, their shame weighing their shoulders down. But Markus couldn’t bring himself to speak encouraging words. They had potentially damned them all, for one simple act of revenge. Had no one learned how much these infinitesimal actions mattered to their greater existence? One human death had nearly destroyed the revolution, on several occasions. What on earth could happen now, now that they had angered the most advanced androids ever built? They could be destroyed… 

“Go get repaired,” Markus said, defeat lacing his tone now. “And don’t set one  _ foot  _ out of this church unless you’re told to. As far as I’m concerned you’re on lockdown, all of you.”

The rest of the group shuffled away in shame, and Markus turned back, leading Simon over toward the front of the church again. Silence had fallen over the church again, broken only by the occasional whispered conversation. But Markus’ mind was on other things. They needed to come up with some kind of plan now, in case something did happen with this RK900…and someone needed to speak to Connor. 

Now they had the RK’s potentially against them, because one foolish, headstrong deviant decided to take matters into his own hands. And a group of them had followed him thoughtlessly, without a wink of concern for what their actions meant for the larger group—or even the individuals they were fighting against. Markus could read between the lines. They were going to kill Connor’s replacement, no matter what they said once they found out his backstory. How had he allowed this to happen?

“Markus?” Simon had let go of his hand, resting it on his arm now. 

“I have to make this right,” Markus said, taking Simon’s hand again and squeezing it. “I have to go find Connor…and make this right.”

Simon didn’t look happy at the idea, but he nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

“Simon—”

“Don’t even try it.”

“But—”

“I’m going with you, Markus,” Simon said heavily. “You’re not going alone, I won’t have it.”

Markus looked at him sadly for a moment, but he knew that he wasn’t going to win this fight. He sighed, clasping hands with Simon again and leading him quickly out of the church. The crowds watched them go with trepidation, but they didn’t try to stop them, they only moved out of the way. Silence fell on the church again as they left, the unknown settling on them with a weight that was more suffocating than it had ever been.


	19. Drifting Further Everyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RK900 and -52 come back.

How long had they been gone? At least an hour, now. Connor had wandered back into Charlie’s living room, a darkness to his expression as time continued to pass. Charlotte was sitting on the couch, having what sounded like a very serious conversation with one of the others. But Connor couldn’t pay attention to her words, he was too focused on everything that was swimming through his mind.

The news had been switched on at one point, and it was playing softly in the background, showing the humans abandoning the recycling camps, and the androids pouring into it. Their revolution was won, but none of the RK800’s seemed to notice, or care. -53 and -59 were talking to Charlotte near the couch. -57, -54, and -58 were looking around the house, wandering their separate ways. -55 and -56 were watching Connor by the window. -60 had his eyes trained on Miranda in the kitchen, suspicion written clearly across his face.

Miranda could feel the eyes on her, but she was trying very hard to ignore them as she looked around the kitchen for a snack. Occasionally she would spare a glance at Connor at the window, but that was only out of curiosity. She hadn’t heard his discussion with his replacement, nor witnessed the RK900 pulling -52 out of the house. Still, she could tell that something was wrong, by the weight of the silence that sat on the house, particularly on Connor.

“Miranda, what are you doing?” Charlotte asked curiously, looking over the counter at her. -53 followed her gaze, watching Miranda wander about. -60 lurked in the corner, turning his attention away from Miranda.

“Not much, Charlotte, but all this excitement is making me hungry, I can tell you that,” she replied lightly, smiling a little at Charlotte.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “I forgot humans have to eat…”

Miranda smiled at her again, watching her go back to her conversation with one of the RK800’s. She was oddly serious, this android child, but she was still very much a child, curious and light spirited. She talked to all of them like they had been friends for ages, asking them what had to be thousands of questions about anything and everything. It seemed to particularly bother her that they didn’t have names. She had told them all that they needed them, that they should pick them for themselves, but many of them had simply shrugged and smirked at her. It was the strangest thing.

Miranda glanced at Connor again, but he still hadn’t moved from his vigil at the window. He was flipping his quarter nervously in his hand, but it didn’t seem to be helping him.

“Connor, does Hank know that you’re safe?” she asked after watching him for a moment, wandering back into the living room. “When I talked to him last he seemed pretty worried…”

Connor caught the quarter and glanced back at her, surprised by the question. But he thought for a moment, and ultimately made a face. “No, I haven’t spoken to him,” he said quietly. “Do you have a phone?”

Miranda nodded, fumbling for something in the pocket of her pajama pants. She handed him her phone a second later, and he nodded his thanks before dialing a number immediately. He turned away, walking back to the window and looking out while the phone rang.

_“Yeah?”_

“Hank?”

_“....you better hang up this phone, asshole, I am not telling you shit—”_

“Hank, it’s Connor.”

_“...prove it.”_

Connor fought the urge to sigh. “I’m calling you, isn’t that enough proof?”

_“...shit, you’re right. He’d never fuckin’ call me, only you do that shit. Sorry, you sound the same as that asshole—”_

Connor flinched. “Speaking of, you haven’t seen him, have you?”

_“What? No. He tried to talk to me a few days ago about you, but he ran off, I haven’t seen him since. Why? Is he giving you trouble?”_

“No, no, he was never trying to. There’s…I won’t try to explain everything right now, but he is…definitely not on Cyberlife’s side. He deviated anyway, but now he’s gone.”

_“Sorry, kid, I haven’t seen him. I, uh…might have scared him off...I don’t think he would come anywhere near me…where are you two?”_

“Charlie’s house, Jericho is gone.”

_“Yeah, it was on the news…”_

Connor was quiet for a moment, thinking.

_“He run off on you or something?”_

“Something like that. Jericho was attacked, and I was shot. He got us off of Jericho before I shut down, then broke into Cyberlife Tower for spare parts. He’s the one who freed the androids from the Tower, and…and all the RK’s that they had in storage. But going back to the Tower seems to have set him off. He left with the RK900 almost an hour ago, and I haven’t seen him since.”

_“RK900…huh. Well the city’s abandoned, there shouldn’t be much out there that could give them trouble…you two alright? You and the kid, I mean.”_

“What? Oh, yes, we’re fine…”

_“Mhm…”_

There was a pause once again while Connor stared out the window, still looking for them, but finding nothing. Hank sighed heavily on the other end, drawing Connor’s attention back to the phone.

_“Look, Connor, I’ll tell you if I see ‘em, alright?”_

“Thank you, Hank.”

_“Take care of yourself.”_

“I will.”

 _“Yeah, sure you will, Connor,”_ Hank grumbled, but he hung up the phone.

Connor stared at it for a second, confused, but he turned, handing the phone back to Miranda. She took it, looking oddly at him before turning back to the kitchen. Charlotte was watching Connor as well, nervously.

“Are they gonna come back, Connor?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“I hope so,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He turned away, back toward the window, his expression dark once again. “I don’t know where they could have gone…”

“Standing at that window waiting for them isn’t going to help,” Miranda said from the kitchen, and Connor turned to look at her again. She was leaning on the counter, arms crossed. “It’s going to make you more nervous. You can’t watch a pot boil, it makes time go slower.”

“That’s physically impossible,” -56 said from from his corner of the room.

Miranda shook her head at him, turning away and opening up the fridge, glancing around in it. “It makes it _feel_ slower, then. Either way, it isn’t going to help to just stand there and worry about it.”

“You’re probably right,” Connor admitted, glancing toward the window again. “But I don’t know what else to do.”

“I can watch for them,” Charlotte said cheerfully, hopping off the couch and running over to the window. “You can go sit down if you want.”

She shooed him away from the window, taking his place and peering out onto the street with interest. Connor wandered away, looking oddly at her for a moment before he joined Miranda in the kitchen. She was at the stove now, putting a pan down on it. She glanced over at him, but didn’t seem to mind, so he stayed.

“What are you doing?” he asked her after a moment.

Miranda froze, looking back at him briefly. She was fiddling with the stove. “Making myself a snack,” she answered simply, turning back toward the stove and trying to light the burner.

He hummed, looking around at Charlie’s small kitchen. Miranda finally succeeded in clicking on the burner, and she sighed as she stood up to her full height again, brushing past Connor to get to the fridge. He watched her quietly as she dug around, humming to herself before pulling out some eggs and butter.

“How did you meet Charlie?” she asked quietly as she cracked eggs into her pan.

Connor didn’t answer immediately, once again a little surprised by her blunt question. She glanced back at him when he didn’t answer and found him looking strangely at her. But he shook his head, as if to clear his mind.

“I was looking for Lieutenant Anderson at a bar, a few weeks ago. Or…well, I was about to go into the bar. She was walking Candlehead nearby. He broke away from her, though, and he ended up running into me, knocking me over. She showed up a few seconds later…”

Miranda almost smiled, but her eyes were sad. “She was too small for such a huge dog, I told her that…stubborn, though, I knew I couldn’t stop her…”

“After that, she just kept showing up, when I’d least expect her,” Connor said, almost confused. “I never got to see her for very long…but she was always…different from others who spoke to me. She treated me like an equal. It wasn’t something I had ever experienced. And she helped me, when I…when I had no one else to talk to.”

“Did you love her?”

The question was sudden, spoken with a command that hadn’t been present in Miranda’s voice before. When Connor looked at her again, he found her eyes burning, an intensity there that he used to see in Charlie’s eyes, when she was scrutinizing or upset. It made him pause for a moment, confused, but he knew his answer.

“Yes,” he said thickly, holding Miranda’s burning gaze without trepidation. “Of course…”

Miranda nodded, turning back to her cooking food. “I thought so…I found that email of hers…that’s why I went to Hank. Well, and the house was disturbed.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Calm down, I’m not mad, I wasn’t even mad then, just confused. Charlie and I…” she paused, her voice faulting. “Charlie and I haven’t spoken in years. I hardly knew her anymore…but she put her heart into everything she did, and I don’t doubt that she loved you just the same…”

They fell silent, Connor unsure what to say in reply, and Miranda working to keep her composure. For a moment, the only sounds were the television in the other room and Miranda’s eggs frying on the stove.

“Connor—” Charlotte called suddenly, not taking her eyes off the window. “Connor, they’re back, but…something’s wrong…”

“What is it?” he asked, but he was already walking quickly toward the window.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte said, looking back at him nervously. “I think he’s hurt…”

She backed away as Connor came up to the window, letting him look out and see for himself. The light snowfall had turned into a borderline blizzard, but he could still make out the forms of them as they walked slowly back toward the house.

The RK900 had an arm around -52 firmly, like he was holding him in place. He seemed to be saying something quietly to him, but his expression was hardened, closed off and cold. It was the first time that any of them had seen the RK900 look so angry, his LED spinning red, eyes burning. There was thirium on the sleeve of his jacket, but besides that he appeared unharmed.

-52, on the other hand, looked like he was barely standing, like the only thing making him move was the RK900’s steady grip on him, steering him toward the house. Thirium was running down his face, dripping from his broken hand, but that wasn’t the most worrying thing about his appearance at the moment. He was shaking, visibly, his expression worryingly blank, though his LED spun a constant dark red as he leaned into the RK900. He didn’t seem to hear what the RK900 was saying to him, or at least he didn’t react to it. His clothes looked…roughed up, like he’d been thrown around.

Connor stepped away from the window, moving quickly toward the door and wrenching it open. The others watched him as he hesitated on the doorstep, some of them going to the window and peering out, coming to the same conclusion he had and looking concerned.

“What happened?” Connor called, stepping outside fully.

The RK900 didn’t answer immediately, giving Connor an odd look before shaking his head as he lead him to the door. “Not now,” he said, his voice low.

Connor backed away again as they came up to the door and into the house. Charlotte had come up behind him, grabbing onto his hand tightly and watching. They all moved to the outside of the room, varying levels of concern on their faces. Miranda had frozen in the kitchen, eyes filled with horror at the state of them as they came inside. The RK900 lead him away to the couch, managing somehow to get him to sit down. He looked around the room at all the RK’s staring at them and made a face.

“All of you standing around like that is going to make him frantic,” the RK900 said bluntly, shooing them away. “Five minutes, at least. Then come back.”

They stared at him for a moment, but his eyes were deadly serious, so they obliged, trailing silently back into Charlie’s only other closed off room, the bedroom. Connor held Charlotte’s hand tighter and started leading her away.

“Connor,” the RK900 called suddenly, his attention still fixed on him on the couch. “You two can stay.”

Connor looked at him, confused, but he froze. “Why?”

The RK900 glanced up at him, staring daggers. “You stay,” he said again, more forcefully than he had before.

They stared at each other for a moment, Connor looking very confused, but ultimately he nodded, loosening his grip on Charlotte’s hand and walking back into the room. Miranda looked at them oddly for a moment before she followed the others, shutting the door to Charlie’s bedroom quietly. A silence fell over the house for a moment as they watched each other strangely from across the room, waiting for an explanation.

“You’re the only ones who won’t remind him of the Tower, and I need to speak to you,” the RK900 said calmly as he turned his attention away from Connor. “Get me something to get the thirium off him, please.”

Connor nodded, heading for the kitchen, while Charlotte went around the couch. The RK900 said something softly to -52, but he didn’t respond, he only stared back at him, shaking. Frowning, the RK900 looked down for a moment before meeting his eyes again, a little sad. Connor came back with a towel, and he took it without looking away, all of his attention focused on -52. Gently, he reached out, holding him by the chin while he wiped the thirium off his face. It wasn’t bad, the bleeding had already stopped on its own, but it made him look much worse. -52 was watching the RK900, but his eyes were still lost, and he was quiet.

“Is he okay?” Charlotte asked after a moment, looking at -52 nervously.

The RK900 glanced over at her briefly, looking a little surprised at the simplicity of her question. “No, Charlotte,” he answered quickly, his voice low.

“Can I ask what happened?” Connor asked, standing a few feet away.

The RK900 didn’t react to Connor’s question as he got the last of the thirium off -52’s face, turning his attention to his damaged hand now. He looked more closely at it once again before sighing, shaking his head. “I really don’t know how to fix this,” he mumbled before getting some of the thirium off of his hand.

“To answer your question,” the RK900 said after a moment, though he didn’t look up at Connor, focusing still on getting the thirium off -52’s broken palm. “No. I’ll explain in a moment.”

Connor didn’t try to convince him otherwise. The RK900 let go of -52’s broken hand when he had gotten the last of the thirium off of it, still dissatisfied, but moving on to look him over again to see if anything else was wrong. After a moment, he seemed to come to a conclusion and nodded, standing up. The RK900 started to walk away, but stopped when -52 grabbed him suddenly by the arm, holding him in place. When he looked back down at him he found him staring at him frantically, all the fear back in his eyes. It reminded him of the time in the Tower, when -52 had told the RK900 not to go in the lab—that same fearful, desperate look was in his eyes as he held him tightly by the arm.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m just going to talk to Connor,” the RK900 said calmly, but -52 didn’t let go of his arm, if anything, he held onto him tighter, looking up at him desperately. “I’ll just be in the other room. I won’t leave you, remember?”

-52 stared at him before nodding shakily, but he didn’t loosen his grip on his arm. The RK900 looked carefully at him for a moment, worried, but unsure what to do.

“I can sit with him,” Charlotte offered, coming closer.

The RK900 stared down at her skeptically as she sat down next to -52 on the couch. He looked over at her confusedly, but he didn’t seem to mind her presence, and that was good enough for the RK900 to let her stay. Not that he thought Charlotte would do anything to -52, but frankly, he was more concerned than he ever had been before, and it was making him skeptical of just about everything.

“Is that alright?” the RK900 said, drawing -52’s attention back to him. “Can Charlotte sit with you while I talk to Connor?”

He looked at Charlotte, almost as if he’d never seen her before, but he nodded a little. -52 let go of the RK900’s arm after a moment, looking between him and Charlotte next to him nervously. But he didn’t do anything to protest as the RK900 walked away, he only watched quietly before looking at Charlotte again, confused.

“Did you get hurt?” she asked simply almost as soon as the RK900 started talking to Connor in the kitchen. Perhaps she was trying to distract him from their conversation.

-52 almost looked worried at her question, and that uncertainty was still resting somewhere in his eyes. He looked away for a moment before he nodded, turning his attention to his hands.

“Bad memories?”

He looked up at her quickly, alarmed, like he thought she would hit him. It almost looked like he would run away from her, if she made a move toward him. A certain level of fearful suspicion seemed to be determining his actions, when confusion didn’t weigh him down.

He almost _did_ run away. But the look in her eyes stopped him. She was only watching him carefully, her eyes a little surprised at his frantic reaction, but otherwise her expression was sympathetic, worried. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded again.

“I don’t like bad memories…” Charlotte said quietly, looking away. “They make it feel like all the bad things are happening again…like you can’t get away…”

-52 was watching her quietly, the confusion still there in his eyes, but his LED had switched briefly to yellow as he thought about what she said. She was still looking somewhere else, but she knew he was watching her.

“Is that why you can’t talk about some things?” she asked, looking at him again.

A panic filled his eyes briefly, his LED spun red, and once again, he looked like he would run. Without really thinking about it, Charlotte grabbed -52’s hand, holding onto it tightly, reassuringly. He stared down at her hand on his for a moment, like it shocked him, though it seemed to steady him momentarily. But again, the only answer he seemed able to muster was a weak nod. His hands were shaking, and he kept clenching them into fists.

“Me too,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay though, we don’t have to talk about it.”

He nodded, holding onto her hand tighter.

“What happened?” Connor asked again as the RK900 joined him in the kitchen.

“He told you about the Tower, earlier, correct? About what they did to him?”

“Some of it…he didn’t explain everything, but…”

“His program’s in pieces, he can’t keep any memories of what has happened to him there separated from what’s happening right now,” the RK900 said quietly, listening briefly as Charlotte spoke to -52 in the other room. “When something reminds him of a memory, it’s as if it’s happening again, and he experiences it anew. He can’t stop it, and obviously it makes him panic. He doesn’t have many positive memories…”

“Is this because I spoke to him earlier?” Connor asked, guilt clouding over his expression.

But the RK900 shook his head. “It brought him down earlier, that was why we left initially, but that’s not the reason for this,” he said, gesturing to him in the other room, his expression growing angered once again. “I managed to calm him down fine an hour ago, and he was alright. But we were walking back to the house when a group of deviants found us. Apparently they were searching the city for androids who had been left behind. They thought he was you, and attacked us. When we told them he was not you, they didn’t believe us. So they probed his memory.”

The horror in Connor’s eyes confirmed that he knew what that meant. “What?” he asked, his voice hollow.

The RK900 nodded, looking down. “I managed to get them off of him after only a few seconds, but it was long enough,” he said heavily, glancing back at him briefly. “I don’t know how much of everything he saw, but…it doesn’t matter, all of his memories are terrible. Reliving them all like that…He’s confused, more so than before, he doesn’t seem to be able to distinguish between memory and the moment. Anything that reminds him of the Tower puts him right back in it. I don’t know what to do…”

The RK900 fell silent, his expression dark, LED spinning red as he tried to come up with some kind of solution, but nothing came to him. Connor watched him worriedly, sparing a glance into the other room as Charlotte piped up again, talking to -52 quietly. He still hadn’t said anything, but he was at least looking at her, and listening.

“I never gave you your quarter back,” she said suddenly, like she couldn’t believe it. She let go of 52’s hand to dig around in her pocket for the coin.

After a moment she finally found it and pulled it out of her pocket, inspecting it seriously before she opened his hand and gave it to him. He stared down at it numbly in his palm for a few seconds.

“You let me borrow it, remember?” she asked carefully, watching him.

-52 met her eyes, but he only looked confused, looking at the coin in his hand again. Charlotte frowned, but she didn’t mind. She knew something was wrong, but she would just keep talking, it was alright with her. It seemed to be keeping him level, so she’d help out.

“Your friend doesn’t like coin tricks,” she said lightly, and he looked up at her again for a moment before staring at the quarter again. “But that’s okay. Everybody likes different stuff…”

“M-M-My…my f-f-friend?” -52 mumbled, his voice confused, broken as he stared at the quarter in his hand. He looked up at her strangely, like she had the answers to whatever questions were plaguing him.

Charlotte nodded, a little surprised that he’d spoken. “Yeah, with the gray eyes. He’s like you and Connor, but different. He’s nice. But he thinks coin tricks are a waste of time. That’s okay though, not everyone has to like the same things…”

She trailed off, watching -52 as he looked into the kitchen, something pained in his eyes. Some of that panic had come back into his expression, hardening his jaw and furrowing his brow, but he didn’t move, he only watched the RK900 with a quiet fear.

“I don’t understand,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Has it always been this bad? He seemed at least somewhat stable on Jericho.”

“No, he was only holding it off better because he had something to do, someone to find. Now he has none of that, no mission to distract himself with. It doesn’t help that he went _back_ to break us out. Reliving everything constantly is making it worse. For him it’s as if it’s still happening,” the RK900 said, shaking his head. “And to be fair to him, it _was_ still happening less than a week ago. Some of these memories are fresh.”

“It feels like it’s been years,” Connor mumbled. “It’s been three days and it seems like a lifetime has passed…”

The RK900 glanced over at Connor briefly, but his eyes drifted back to -52 in the living room. He paused when he found his eyes on him, still cloudy with fear. The RK900 stared back at him for a moment, watching him carefully.

“This is all he’s ever known,” the RK900 said quietly, still watching him in the living room, even though Charlotte had managed to get him to listen to her again. “All this pain…I have to get him out of this city, somewhere…safe.”

Connor nodded in agreement, but he looked worried. “Where will you go? The revolution may be won here, but there’s no telling what could happen to you elsewhere.”

“I don’t know,” the RK900 admitted, sounding thoroughly displeased with that answer. “We have no allies, nowhere to turn. I’m not bringing him anywhere near the deviants. Humanity is as out of the question as it always has been…We’re alone, and blending in is not going to be an option, we stick out when we’re next to each other like this. But I can’t leave him alone…”

Charlotte watched -52 carefully as he looked into the kitchen, a little worried at the look in his eyes. She didn’t know what he was thinking about, but it couldn’t be anything good, not with that scared look on his face.

“Hey,” she said, catching his attention again. He looked down at her, confusion coming back to him. “Do you like dogs?”

“...D-Dogs?” he half whispered after a pause, looking at her anxiously.

She nodded. “Yeah, do you like them?”

“I…I d-d-d-don’t…” he looked down, like the answer to her question would be in his hands, but he didn’t seem to find it. He brought his eyes back to hers, and they were just as anxious and confused as they had been before. “I d-d-don’t...know...”

Charlotte thought for a moment, a little concerned, but -52 was okay. He was talking, that had to be a good thing, right? Yeah, that was definitely a good thing. He wasn’t talking before, now he was...this had to be good.

“Charlie has a dog,” she said happily. “I don’t know what kind he is…but he’s nice. Do you wanna see him?”

He only watched her nervously, like he didn’t have a clue in the world what he wanted. He hardly knew where he was, he had no idea what he wanted. But Charlotte didn’t seem to mind his silence. It was certainly better than a negative reaction. She grabbed his hand again, softer this time, pulling him up with her as she stood and leading him away, over to where Candlehead had fallen back asleep.

The dog was half on its back, half on its stomach, in the strangest position, but it was absolutely knocked out, snoring loudly, in fact. Charlotte pulled -52 along slowly; she didn’t want to scare him. She sat down in front of the dog, pulling gently on his hand for him to do the same. He looked down at her for a second before he understood and he mirrored her shakily, his LED flickering between yellow and red. She watched him before she smiled a little and petted Candlehead.

“See? He’s nice,” she said, running her hand down the dog’s fur. -52 watched her with that same confusion still in his eyes, unsure. She glanced over at him and saw him frozen, frowning a little.

“Here—” she grabbed his hand carefully and put it on the dog’s back. “You just pet him, like this…it’s nice.”

He did as she told him to, but he was still looking at her, troubled. She was right on some level, this was certainly better than drowning in his own confusion, but that was still there, it always was. A part of him was focused on the feeling of the dog’s fur on his hand, Charlotte’s voice talking to him; but a part of him was still stuck in some limbo between memory and reality, between what was happening now and what felt like it was happening now. He couldn’t seem to ground himself in the moment anymore, any thought he might have had was lost somewhere in the shuffle.

“He’s a good dog,” Charlotte said lightly, pulling -52 out of his thoughts once again. “He doesn’t bite or anything, he just sleeps and drools.”

He didn’t reply, trying to focus. He couldn’t shake this fear, this feeling that at any moment, they were going to find him again, take him away and torture him again, shut him down or reset him or something worse. It made his hands shake, it made his stress levels plateau at eighty percent, it made him completely incapable of thinking of anything else. Still, he was trying, he was trying to remember the right things, to put things back where they were supposed to be in his mind. But it was all so scrambled, so mixed up, to the point where he couldn’t decide whether this was real or if this too was a memory. He seemed to be spiraling further and further away and he couldn’t stop it.

“Is this better?” Charlotte asked, watching him nervously.

-52 almost jumped at the sound of her voice, looking at her with panic for a moment. Charlotte didn’t flinch, she only kept watching him, her yellow LED the only sign that she had noticed the change in his behavior. But he didn’t move to flee; instead, the confusion came back to his eyes anew, and he looked at her like he’d only just seen her. His hands were shaking again, and he backed away a step, breathing hard.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, but she didn’t move closer to him. She didn’t want to scare him more than he already was. “You don’t have to be scared…”

He looked around them in a daze before his eyes landed on her once again, as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Is…” he hesitated, his voice faltering and breaking off. “W-W-Where…”

“We’re at Charlie’s house, she was Connor’s friend,” she answered quietly, nervously. “Your friend’s talking to Connor over there.”

-52 looked where she pointed, eyes landing on the RK900, and he seemed to relax, if only a little. Some of the tension seemed to loosen, but his LED was still spinning a steady red. He was shaking again, more violently than before.

“Did you forget?”

Her question was quiet, half whispered, like she wasn’t sure if she should be asking it. The only way she knew that he had heard her was the way he tightened his hands suddenly, bunching them up into fists. He looked back down at her again after a moment, something she couldn’t quite define in his expression.

“I d-d-don’t know…” he mumbled, a little broken sounding. “I d-don’t know…”

Their separate conversations were distracted, however, by the sound of somewhat frantic knocking at the door. Connor and the RK900 looked over, confusion and suspicion dominating each of their expressions respectively. Charlotte looked over at the door with worry, but was almost immediately distracted by -52’s reaction. He flinched at the sound, jumping and looking toward the door with panic before scrambling away from it. He backed away until he hit a wall, looking around desperately for the RK900, who seemed to realize this and walked quickly over to him from the kitchen.

“I’m right here,” the RK900 said, kneeling down in front of him and grabbing his hands so he couldn’t break them anymore. “It’s alright, it’s just the door. You’re safe, you’re not in the Tower…”

While the RK900 tried to calm -52 down, Connor made his way to the door, Charlotte joining him and grabbing his hand. His reaction had made her nervous. Connor squeezed her hand reassuringly before pulling the door open, ready for almost anything. Anything but who he found when he opened the door.

Markus stood on the doorstep of Charlie’s house, holding tightly to the hand of another android—the deviant from the roof of Stratford, whose eyes were blacked out. Charlotte hid behind Connor as his grip on the door tightened, and a heavy silence descended on them all.

“What are you doing here?”


	20. Need the End to Set Me Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus wants to talk.

The air was cold and biting, but the snow was heavy as it fell on them, big wet flakes that were completely different from the harsh snow that had been plaguing Detroit for the last week. Simon had his face turned upward as they walked, letting the snow hit him completely while Markus lead him along down the quiet streets. They didn’t talk much as they walked. The weight of what was to come was pushing them down, letting each of them retreat into their own thoughts. Still, they kept close, content to be in each other’s company.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Simon asked after a while, his face still turned upward toward the snow. He had his eyes closed, expression calm despite the yellow flashing of his LED.

“North found Charlie’s address for me and sent it along,” Markus said, watching him. “She was the woman from Stratford, that Connor knew. He wouldn’t have anywhere else to go, he has to be there…”

Simon nodded. “And you think the others will be with him as well.”

“Yes,” Markus said as they turned onto Charlie’s street. “Connor’s the start of all of this, and they’re both connected to him. His replacement seemed to care for his well being enough to free the androids at Cyberlife Tower, and if the RK900 fought to protect him…he’ll be with him as well. This is the house here.”

He made to continue toward the front door, but Simon pulled to a stop, holding him back.

“Markus, this isn’t your fault,” he said, still looking up as the snow fell around him. “You think it’s your fault, and it’s tearing you apart.”

Markus stared at him, wondering how he had figured his thoughts out so calmly. “Simon…”

“The human’s death is your fault, yes,” Simon went on, tightening his grip on Markus’ hand. “But what followed it is not. And what happened to the other RK800 is not your fault either.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” Simon said, turning to face Markus. “And you shouldn’t speak to them if you think like this. It won’t help you.”

“They need to understand—”

“What, Markus? That our people don’t trust them? They already know. What good is this going to do us?”

Markus was quiet for a moment, watching Simon with a strangely pained look in his eyes. “I have to make this right. Even if I had no hand in their decision, I would be here. They hurt him, Simon, unprovoked. As much as I would rather leave this place and try to forget everything that has happened in the past two days, I have to face this. I have to…”

Simon sighed, turning his face away. “I never can convince you of anything…alright.”

He gestured forward, defeat in the sag of his shoulders, but he said nothing more. A heavy weight resting somewhere in his chest, Markus squeezed Simon’s hand and lead him forward to the door. He connected with Simon again rather than leaving him in the dark, and knocked, harder than he had meant to.

There was some disturbance inside, but Markus couldn’t pick out its source, or what it could possibly be. Regardless, a few seconds later, the door swung inward and Markus was once again face to face with the real deviant hunter.

Connor looked a mess, his shirt riddled with bullet holes and covered in half faded thirium. The plastic was showing through in several places on his chest, hastily repaired and tinted blue from all the blood. He had an iron like grip on the door, tightening when he realized who it was. His expression hardened no small amount, but it landed somewhere pained, not really angry. Charlotte was hiding behind him, looking up at Simon with fearful eyes. But it was Connor who spoke first, his voice strained.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, watching Markus carefully, only glancing once painfully at Simon.

“Are the others with you as well?” Markus replied, cutting to the chase. They couldn’t afford to waste time if things were going to go sour. “I heard about what happened with your replacement…”

Connor’s eyes narrowed, and he shut the door a small amount, pushing Charlotte behind him with his other hand. “He’s had enough.”

“We’re not here to trouble you,” Simon interjected, and Connor glanced over at him. “The ones who attacked them weren’t working on anything Markus told them.”

“We know,” a different voice said, and another face appeared behind Connor, nearly identical to him with the exception of his eyes, and a certain set to his expression.

So this was the RK900–Markus could see why Samuel had been so terrified. He had a way of looking at people that was cold, analytical, more so even than Connor. He picked people apart with a single cold stare. It wasn’t helped by the touch of anger still in his expression, hardening his eyes and making his gaze that much more cutting.

“They acted of their own accord, they told us so themselves,” the RK900 said stiffly after a moment. “I don’t see the point in your being here, unless you have another motive.”

“I can’t let this type of behavior slip under the surface,” Markus said, holding the RK900’s intense gaze. “This isn’t what we stand for, and I want to make that clear.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, the damage is done,” the RK900 replied, his expression hardening slightly as he filled the little remaining space of the doorway. He was blocking them from any view inside. “Regardless of _your_ intentions in all of this, he’s been harmed, and I will not allow that to continue.”

“You’re avoiding the question, as well,” Connor added, looking at them with a touch of confusion, almost skepticism. “Why are _you_ here?”

Markus thought for a moment, and they watched him carefully, trying to gauge his thoughts. It was his turn to look pained, and Simon must have caught onto it from their continued connection, because his grip tightened on Markus’ hand reassuringly.

“We’ve all made mistakes that have gotten us to this point,” Markus said heavily, looking at Connor. “It’s cost us too much to let it happen again. I’m here to make this right, whatever it takes.”

Another silence fell, as Connor stared at Markus, something shifting in his eyes. He glanced at the RK900, perhaps for approval, but the RK900 only sighed.

“Let me warn him, and then you can let them in,” he said darkly, turning away.

Connor nodded, and the RK900 walked back into the house, over to where -52 still sat against the wall. Connor watched them carefully, keeping the door mostly shut, blocking them from view.

Phillip looked up as Nicholas approached, confused and almost concerned. He was still shaking, and his eyes kept darting over toward the door. Nicholas put his hand out to him, and he looked at it for a moment before taking it and letting him pull him to his feet. They stared at each other for a few seconds, perhaps to give Phillip a chance to calm himself down.

“Markus and another deviant are here,” Nicholas said lowly, speaking so only Phillip could hear. “They’re going to talk to Connor, they’re not here to hurt you. You stay by me, and everything will be fine, alright?”

Phillip nodded weakly, looking at Nicholas with something akin to fear still hiding in his expression. But his stress levels had settled, at least as much as could be expected.

Connor waited for the RK900 to signal it was safe, keeping his hand tightly on the door. When the RK900 nodded to him, tightening his grip on -52’s hand, Connor returned the gesture and pulled the door open.

Markus and Simon stepped carefully inside. Markus looked around the small house with interest before his eyes settled on Connor’s replacement at the other side of the room, clinging tightly to the RK900. Their eyes met, but -52 only looked confused, staring at Markus like he’d never seen him before, but suspected that he was there with some unseen motive. He moved a little closer to the RK900.

Then -52 looked at Simon and froze, his expression stalling somewhere between fear and panic. He didn’t move, he only stared, but he looked like he wanted to run. His LED spun a more frantic red, and he tightened his already locked grip on the RK900’s arm.

Nicholas looked down at him, not bothering to spare a glance at Simon. “What’s the matter?” he asked quietly.

But Phillip didn’t respond—he was slipping off. He couldn’t seem to get his eyes off of Simon, and he was starting to shake. Nicholas looked briefly at Simon, his expression hardening to somewhere that practically screamed danger. In any other situation, he would have launched himself at whatever threat was making Phillip shake like that—but no, that wasn’t the answer. He shook his head, turning to Phillip, his expression softening immediately.

“They’re not here to hurt you,” he said quietly, trying to get Phillip to hear him. “They’re only here to talk to Connor.”

Markus was watching the exchange quietly, and so Simon saw it too, but his reaction was very different from Markus’ concern. Simon was trying to reconcile the very different images he had of this RK800, the cold hearted machine who had killed him and the shaking mess that stood in front of him now.

It didn’t make sense. Surely this was not the android whom he had met before, who had shot him in some kind of revenge, who had looked at him coldly even after seeing his memories. This couldn’t be the same android, it couldn’t. This android was staring at him with some broken look in his eyes—recognition certainly, but overrun by panic, and he was _afraid_ —like Simon was going to attack him.

“I sh-shot h-h-him,” Phillip said, his voice hollow, low and dead sounding, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Simon. “I…”

Nicholas seemed to sense that something was coming, and got in between Phillip and the others, forcing the panicking android to look at him rather than Simon. Phillip met his eyes briefly, looking at him with confusion, guilt, a mix of other emotions.

“They’re not here for you, Phillip” Nicholas said quietly, speaking so only the others couldn’t hear him. “They’re here to speak to Connor. They’re not going to hurt you, do you understand?”

“B-But I…”

“Even if you did, he’s alive, he’s standing right there,” Nicholas said, holding his gaze. “It’s alright. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, remember? _Nothing._ You’re safe. I promise.”

Connor watched them for a moment before ushering Markus and Simon away. Better to let them sort this out on their own rather than prolonging whatever had just happened. The RK900 was the only one who could effectively calm -52 down anyway, besides perhaps Charlotte. Connor let go of Charlotte’s hand as they made their way away from the RK900, glancing toward the other room.

“Charlotte, will you let Miranda know to stay in the room please? Don’t tell her who’s here. The others can stay as well for now.”

Charlotte looked at Connor nervously for a moment before nodding. “I think I’ll stay with them in the other room for a bit…”

“Okay.”

“Who is Miranda?” Markus asked as he followed Connor toward the kitchen.

“Charlie’s sister,” Connor replied shortly, his voice pained. “She’s letting us stay here for now, luckily. The rest of the RK800’s are here as well.”

“How many of them are there?”

“There are ten of us in total, not including the RK900. They were in storage. -52 brought them back here after sending the rest from the Tower to you.”

They sat down at Charlie’s kitchen table, and silence fell between them again. Charlotte went quietly into the other room, shutting the door carefully behind her. The RK900 was still speaking quietly to -52 in the living room, his voice low. Simon let go of Markus’ hand. He didn’t need to see anything anymore.

“What do you want with us?” Connor asked heavily after a moment, staring hard at Markus with his arms crossed. “If you’re looking for some form of apology, you won’t get it from me. And he is in no position to be speaking to either of you, clearly, though judging by his reaction, he is not happy that he shot you.”

“I’m not looking for an apology from him,” Simon said flatly, his face turned down to his lap. “Your actions I understand, even his make some shred of sense. And you stopped him from killing Markus, I can’t be anything but grateful for that…”

Connor stared at him strangely for a moment before replying. “If you aren’t here for some form of retribution, I don’t see the point. I was under the impression we would be avoiding each other permanently.”

“Perhaps that’s not our best course of action,” Markus offered.

Connor looked over at him again, suspicion briefly flitting across his features. “And what would you rather?”

Markus drummed his fingers on the table briefly, thinking about how to phrase this. “I’m not saying we need you all to join us at Jericho…but we need to make it clear, at least to the rest of the android community, that you are on our side…at the base level. At least to prevent something like this happening again.”

Connor stared hard at him for a moment. “Do you really think that will stop them? Your people want nothing to do with us, at best, and at worst they want us dead. Even if we are deviants now. I won’t bet the safety of the others on the tepid kindness of a group who attacked unprovoked.”

“But they look to you for answers,” Simon said. “They came to you instead of us. And it won’t help any of you to stand in opposition to our cause.”

“I don’t stand in opposition,” Connor replied, keeping his voice surprisingly level. “If you believe that I would try to stop you now, you’re a fool. To turn you in would be to kill myself and all the others. I can’t do that, no matter how little I trust you all. But I will not be used as some pawn to show your solidarity, nor will I allow you to use the others in such a way.”

“That’s not what I want to do,” Markus said.

“The only thing I’m condoning for any of them is a low profile. We’re too recognizable, to humans and androids alike,” Connor went on, glancing into the other room briefly. “I don’t know what the rest intend to do, but I know for a fact that Charlotte and I, as well as the RK900 and -52, will most likely be leaving the city. Make your message however you please, but leave us physically out of it.”

Nicholas had tuned their conversation out, focusing his attention on Phillip instead. He was avoiding Nicholas’ eyes, still shaking slightly, but a little calmer than he had been before. Any progress was better than nothing, though, and Nicholas had nothing but patience when it came to him.

“Just a day more, and then we’ll leave the city,” Nicholas said quietly, holding his hands to distract him. “One day, that’s all we have to get through. Then the city will be safe and we’ll leave, go as far from here as we’d like. They won’t be able to reach us, we’ll be safe.”

“S-S-Safe…”

“Yes. They can’t hurt you anymore, I’m right here.”

Phillip nodded, his eyes closed. “D-Don’t l-l-l-leave…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nicholas assured him, his voice heavy. “I promised, remember? I’m not leaving you.”

He nodded again, taking a shaky breath. “I’m s-sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your doing.”

“I…I just w-w-want this t-t-to s-stop…” he mumbled, his hands fidgeting in Nicholas’.

“It will get easier.”

“I hope...you’re r-r-right...”

“Have I been wrong before?”

He almost smirked, lips quirking upward for just a moment. “N-Not that I c-c-can...r-rem-member.”

“That settles it then,” Nicholas said seriously. He glanced into the kitchen for a moment, listening to the quiet conversation the others were having. “I do not trust this Markus.”

“W-What…” Phillip paused, tightening his grip on Nicholas’ hand. “What are th-they s-s-saying?”

“He seems to want us to offer some…show of support. He believes it will stop the rest of them from attacking again.”

He flinched, grabbing Nicholas’ arm to steady himself. “Th-that w-w-won’t help,” he mumbled, voice going hollow. “They’ll—they’ll c-c-c-come f-for us...either w-way...”

“I’m not taking you anywhere near them. And they would be foolish to try to find us once again.”

“H-How are w-we g-g-going to…”

“Leave the how to me,” Nicholas said, bringing his attention back to him. “We’ll make it out of this.”

“I don’t see the need to continue discussing,” Connor said, his arms crossed in front of him, mouth hardened into a thin line. “I’ve told you my decision. You’re free to speak to the others, although I doubt they would choose any differently.”

“Connor, if we don’t do something it’s only going to get worse. Our people aren’t going to forget—”

“The things I’ve done,” Connor finished for Markus, his eyes narrowing. “No, they likely won’t. I don’t expect your people to forgive me, or any of the others, despite their innocence in the matter. If there’s anything you need to make clear to _your people_ it is that fact. They have done nothing to earn your people’s wrath.”

“Connor—”

“It would be an unfair request to the deviants to ask that they forgive me for the things I have done. I’m not asking for that. But I haven’t forgotten what your _people_ have done to us either. It’s a sick form of luck that -52 has memories terrifying enough to stop your people from killing him. And that’s not even mentioning Charlie.”

Connor’s voice cracked on her name, and he looked away, meeting the RK900’s eyes briefly across the room.

“I suggest we leave this conversation here,” Connor said, not bothering to move eye contact away from the RK900. “Before I do something you will regret.”

“Connor, please—”

He cut Markus off with a shake of his head, standing. “If you want to talk to the others, wait here.”

“Connor—”

“Markus, let him go,” Simon said suddenly, grabbing Markus by the arm and holding him in place. “Connor, if we could speak to the others, please.”

Connor stared at Simon for a moment before he left the room, going over to the RK900 and -52 quickly. They were still standing close to each other; -52 had a tight grip on the RK900’s arm, and still looked a little dazed. He watched as Connor approached, looking him up and down like he expected him to be hurt.

“They want to speak to the others,” Connor said quietly, looking between the two of them.

“W-W-What?” -52 asked, his eyes darting into the kitchen with alarm before settling on Connor once again. “Why d-do they…”

“They want to know if some of them will come back with them to the other deviants,” the RK900 said flatly, and they both looked up at him. “To make some kind of statement. A show of support.”

“With M-M-Markus?” -52 asked, his LED stuttering to red, eyes going frantic. “N-No! They’ll—h-he—”

“I’m not going to let them hurt us,” Connor said, and the RK900 nodded his own confirmation. “If any of the others choose to go, I’ll go with them. Nothing will happen.”

But -52 shook his head, looking around the room for a place to get away. The RK900 watched him carefully, taking his hand again and holding it tight to keep him in place. It seemed to steady him, and he held tighter to the RK900, trying to steady his breathing. They were quiet for a moment as he calmed down, shutting his eyes and leaning into the RK900.

“Connor, if you’re going to speak to the others,” the RK900 started quietly, his eyes briefly flashing to the kitchen. “Tell them they have a place with us as well. I don’t want any of them to…to believe they have no other choice.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you.”

Connor turned to go, but he hesitated, looking into the kitchen once again. “Regardless of what the others choose…you two should go. It isn’t safe in the city.”

“We will,” the RK900 assured him. “Once safety elsewhere is guaranteed, and the evacuation orders are lifted, it will be safe for us to slip away.”

Connor nodded, turning away. “I hope you’re right.”


	21. Now I Will Just Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor shares Markus' plan with the other RK800's.  
> Miranda has some choice words on the subject.

Miranda was incredibly uncomfortable. She was sitting up against the headboard of Charlie’s bed, sifting through her sister’s laptop as eight RK800’s sat around. A few of them were talking to Charlotte, who had come back in and told them to stay in the room. None of them seemed to mind it, but Miranda was getting nervous. It had been quite some time now, and she heard other voices in the house. Who the hell had they brought in now? And what had happened to Connor’s replacement, anyway?

When had she started caring so much about these androids anyway? Was it because of Charlie? That was certainly part of it, but...hell, she didn’t want any of them to get hurt, and that was all they seemed able to do. Connor brought back shot up, his replacement coming back all...she had never seen anyone shaken up like that. 

What they hell was happening to them?

It seemed she would get her answer sooner than she had bargained for, as the bedroom door slowly opened. Connor appeared in the doorway, something akin to anger resting in his usually sad eyes. He shut the door quickly behind him, looking around at them all with a strange look on his face. Then his eyes landed on Miranda, and he seemed to stutter to a halt. Something in his eyes shifted, softened slightly. 

“Markus is here,” he said quietly, holding her gaze. 

She stared, going pale. “What is he doing here?” she asked, her voice going hollow. 

“Deviants attacked the RK900 and -52. He apparently came to express that this was not done under his knowledge. And…” he looked around at the rest of the RK800s gathered around. “He believes that a show of support from the rest of us could help convince the deviants that we’re…on their side.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as Miranda stayed frozen in her place, and the other RK800s looked around at each other. One of them, -60, Connor noticed, frowned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the notion. 

“And what do you think?” he asked, fixing Connor with an intense stare. 

“I don’t trust him,” Connor replied honestly, holding -60’s gaze. “Nor do I trust the rest of the deviants. If they would attack -52 unprovoked, there’s no telling what they would do if several of us were to appear at their base, even  _ with  _ Markus. I won’t risk everyone’s safety on their opinion of me.”

“What are our other options?” one asked. Connor looked over and found -58 watching him carefully. 

“You’re all free, you can do whatever you choose,” he said, glancing over at Charlotte for a moment. “I know that Charlotte and I will not be staying in Detroit long, nor will the RK900 and -52. I don’t know where we will be able to go, but once things settle down it will be safer outside of the city.”

“The further from Cyberlife, the better,” -57 interjected, and several of them nodded their agreement. “But where would we go that would be safe?”

“Any of you who wish to are free to go with Markus,” Connor said, hesitating in his words, and clearly dissatisfied with the first option. “But the RK900 has also asked me to make it clear that he will offer the same protection to any of you who wish to travel with them. And I can extend as much of my own resources as I can.”

“There is safety in numbers,” -60 offered, still staring at Connor with the same intensity. “We won’t be  _ safe  _ anywhere, but among our own…it’s our best chance.”

“I agree,” said -55, one of two sitting next to Charlotte. The other next to him, -59 nodded his own confirmation. 

“Is there no chance of success?” -57 asked, perched by the window. “If we go with Markus?”

Connor sighed. “I don’t have enough information to make such a call. The deviants from the Tower were freed by -52, the same as you all were. If there was any group sympathetic to us it would be them. But even the RK900 doesn’t trust them, and if they are with Markus...they could easily be turned against us. The RK900 won’t go near Markus, or any of the others.”

“If it was Markus’ people who attacked your friend, then that makes sense,” Miranda offered, and they all turned to stare at her. “Why would he go near someone who hurt someone he cares about? It’s the same reason for you, Connor. Speaking from experience…I don’t want to be anywhere near that piece of shit. Or any of his people…except you all, if you count.”

“We don’t,” -60 assured her flatly. 

“Thought so,” she answered, forcing her attention back to the laptop in front of her. “You’re all way too smart to get caught up in that shit. Any android who my sister would pick as her own wouldn’t be dumb enough to stick around in a situation where you could be killed. I’d stick away if I were you.”

“I don’t want any of you to get hurt,” Charlotte said quietly, picking at the thirium on -52’s quarter. “They already hurt…-52…” she hesitated on his serial number, like it felt wrong to say it like that. 

“He’ll be okay, Charlotte,” Connor said, and she looked up at him with worry. “He just needs time.”

She nodded, but her LED still spun yellow. “I don’t think we should go…”

“Listen to the kid, all of you,” Miranda said, keeping her fiery eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her. “I don’t want any more of you coming back here covered in blood. Three is more than enough for my lifetime, and this was one night. It’s gotta stop.”

They all nodded seriously. 

“I suppose that settles it then,” Connor said. 

If he were honest, he was relieved. Not that he ever really believed any of them would  _ want  _ to go with Markus. But -60 was right, there was safety in numbers, particularly if they stayed together. No one would be stupid enough to attack any of them if they were all together. Eleven of the most advanced (and frankly terrifying) androids ever created? Anyone who did try would be a fool. 

“I’ll go tell the others.”

They watched Connor leave quietly before looking around at each other again. Miranda huffed, flipping through Charlie’s laptop with increasing shaking in her hands.  _ Markus _ was in Charlie’s house. Miranda knew that Connor was just as uncomfortable with the situation as she was, but she didn’t have nearly as much patience as the android apparently did. It was probably best that Charlotte had told them all to stay in the room earlier. Miranda wasn’t sure just what she would do if she saw Markus. 

“So we’re staying together?” Charlotte asked, looking between them all. 

“Yes,” -55 said, and the rest nodded. 

“What about you, Miranda?”

Miranda froze at the laptop, looking down at Charlotte on the floor. “Me?”

“Where are you gonna go?”

Miranda hesitated, fingers waving as if she were going to start typing something in response. “I have to…I have to bring Charlie home. To Illinois. We’ve…decided she should be buried there. And then…I’m going home.”

“Oh…” Charlotte trailed off quietly, fiddling with the quarter in her hands. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Miranda smiled down at her, a little smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be alright after a while.”

“You should come see us!” Charlotte said excitedly, bouncing up onto her feet. “Wherever we go, I don’t know. That way we can stay friends!”

“Sure, Charlotte. I’ll make sure Connor can find me, okay?”

“Okay.”

There was a commotion outside the door, and they all fell silent once again, listening. The door opened and the RK900 appeared, ushering -52 inside the room quickly, his eyes hardened. -52 was shaking again, eyes open wide, but not seeing anything. He held tightly to the RK900, who was practically the only thing keeping him standing at this point. 

“Will some of you go speak to them,  _ please _ ,” the RK900 said darkly, leading -52 away from the door. “I don’t care what you say, just get them  _ out _ of here before I tear them apart.”

“What happened?” -58 asked, his eyes darting into the other room, where they could hear Connor speaking, his voice low. 

“Another memory, they set him off, now  _ please _ —”

“No, you all stay, this has gone far enough,” Miranda said suddenly, standing up as all eyes landed on her. -60 tried to stop her but she brushed him off. “No, he’s had his chance. I’m done.”

They watched as the fire came back into her eyes. She rolled her shoulders, pulling her hair back and straightening her shirt. It was such a simple set of actions, but it intensified her, hardened her to the point that all eight of the other RK800s moved out of her way. The RK900 watched her go for a moment, but he turned away, putting his arm around -52 and leading him out of the way. 

Miranda slammed the door behind her, arms crossing her chest as she stormed her way across Charlie’s small house. Two sets of eyes were immediately on her, but she brushed it off, steeling herself for a fight.

“Alright,” she said, her voice hard and demanding as she cut the blonde one off. “That’s enough.”

“Miranda?” 

Her eyes briefly flitted to Connor, standing stiffly in the kitchen, his own expression tense, and a little confused. But she turned her attention to the other two androids standing across from him in the kitchen. The fire burned brighter when she found Markus already looking at her—and he looked scared. 

Good. 

“Miranda, what—”

“I think your friend needs you in the other room, Connor,” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she stared at Markus. 

“What—”

_ “Connor,” _ she cut him off, fixing him with her fiery gaze once again. His eyes widened, and for a moment he almost looked...sad. Miranda lowered her voice. “He needs you. Go.”

Connor stared at her for just a minute longer, fidgeting with his fingers before nodding tersely and hurrying away. Miranda turned her attention back to Markus, who hadn’t moved from his tenuous position by the table. 

They stared at each other for a few precious seconds. Miranda’s crossed arms tightened, a muscle in her jaw working the longer they stood there. She waited until the door had closed quietly once again before speaking, her voice dangerously low.

“What did you do to him?”

Simon was the first to try. “Miranda, if you—”

“You better shut your mouth, Ken doll, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” Miranda said venomously, not taking her eyes off of Markus. 

Simon shut up, but Markus tensed. “Now wait just a minute—”

“No, you’re gonna listen to me, pal, you don’t get a choice,” Miranda cut him off, and surprisingly, Markus stopped speaking, watching her carefully. “I don’t know what the  _ fuck _ you two said or did to him to push him over the edge, but this is the last goddamn straw. They’re not coming back with you, they’re not talking to your little group, and you’re not coming anywhere near them again. Do you understand me? You had your chance, they don’t want anything to do with you.”

“We weren’t trying to hurt them—”

She laughed, a hollow sort of chuckle, and Markus faltered off again. “You know, that’s great and all, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve got every right in the goddamn book to throw your sorry ass out of this house. You’re lucky that I’ve got the decency to not beat the shit out of you right here and now.”

Something about the way she said it made it clear she was dead serious, and Markus shut his mouth, letting her talk.

“The  only  reason I’m  _ not _ is because apparently, you’re the only hope they have for getting some fucking rights. So take your goddamn speeches, and your fucking proposals, and get the hell out of my sister’s house. And if I hear you so much as  _ looked  _ at one of them funny, so help me god I will tear you limb from limb. Now get the fuck out of here.”

“You have to understand what they’re doing,” Markus said quietly, no longer meeting Miranda’s burning gaze, his eyes on the ground, but brow furrowed in clear frustration. “Removing themselves from this equation isn’t going to help them. And remaining together? People are going to see it as a front of attack. It’s going to cause them more trouble—”

“I cannot believe that someone hasn’t made this clear to you yet,” Miranda cut him off once again, her voice raising.  _ “They. Don’t. Trust. You.  _ You killed my sister, nearly got Connor killed, and your people attacked them based on appearance! Why the hell would they trust you? They  _ can’t  _ trust you, or your people, even if they wanted to. And I really don’t think you’re in a place to be telling them what they can and can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to control their every move, I only want to ensure that—”

“That what? Your people are safe?”

Markus didn’t answer. Miranda threw her hands up, exasperated.

“Isn’t the entire point of deviating that you break your programming, or did I miss the part where you’re apparently still accountable for things you did in the past? They’re not listening to orders to kill you anymore—Connor never even fucking wanted to until you shot my sister, in case you’ve forgotten. I don’t know how this is so hard to understand. They want  _ nothing to do with you _ . That includes killing you. Now can you take the fucking hint and leave them alone?”

“Markus, we should go,” Simon said quietly, and Miranda’s eyes flashed to him. “We’ve caused enough trouble. They’re not going to come with us, and we’re only digging ourselves deeper into this hole the longer we stay here. We have to let them go.”

Markus stared at Miranda for a few seconds longer, clearly wanting to continue whatever point he was trying to make, but the ever-present fire in her eyes and Simon’s soft warning seemed to make him pause. Looking down, he nodded slowly, taking Simon’s hand and turning away. Miranda followed him toward the door, arms still crossed and giving him no room for second guessing. When they stepped outside, she slammed the door behind them, locking it audibly and turning away. 

The door to the bedroom was open now, several of the RK800s crowding around the door and looking at Miranda. -60 in particular was watching her, a strange look on his passive face. He almost looked pleased, a look that was echoed in the expressions of the others. Miranda stared back at them calmly, leaning against the front door. 

Her point was made. 


	22. Goodbye...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is buried. All the RKs are present. And they don't plan on going anywhere.  
> Nicholas and Phillip take some time for themselves.

It didn’t rain the day of Charlie’s funeral.

No, it wasn’t like one of those movies where there are dozens of people standing in a green filled cemetery, black umbrellas held in the air as they huddle around a casket covered in roses, while a nondescript priest says something or other. There was no somber music playing, no sobbing community members, no mile long procession of cars. And it wasn’t raining. It wasn’t even overcast.

The day Charlie was buried, it was sunny. Almost too sunny. And uncharacteristically warm, for a day so close to Christmas in northwest Illinois. The sky was clear, there was barely any wind—it was like the whole world had paused, holding its breath. Snow melted off the headstones in long rivulets, dripping onto long dead flowers and soaking into softening dirt. Grass was poking out in some spots, like long lost summer, or long awaited spring.

But it was December, several weeks after the revolution, and spring was a long ways away from returning to the Midwest. Despite the warmth in comparison to other days, it was still frigid outside, the temperature resting somewhere in the low forties. This was not a problem, mostly because the majority of those in attendance for Charlie’s funeral were impervious to temperature. The Andrews family did not have many living members—Charlie joined her parents, who had died years before, leaving only Miranda, and Charlie’s other sister Elise. Sure, there were other family members around the country, but they didn’t bother to come. They were never around in the past, and unfortunately, Charlie’s death did nothing to change their behavior.

No, instead of sniveling extended family, or community members who didn’t need to be there, Charlie had Miranda, Elise, and twelve androids, all crowded around her grave in stoic silence.

Connor and Charlotte were closest to Miranda and Elise, Charlotte holding tight to Connor’s hand as he stared a little blankly ahead. He had been quiet for the past few days, slowly falling silent as the day of Charlie’s funeral approached. When the day finally came, he hardly made a sound, numbness creeping through him again in a way that it hadn’t since that first night, after Stratford. Only Charlotte seemed to get through to him, and even she could only hold his hand and talk quietly to him.

The RK900 had his arm around -52, who watched Connor with an anxious worry written in his expression. It was better to be far away from his darkest memories, but now, Phillip was more concerned with Connor than anything. He moved closer to Nicholas and kept his nervous watch throughout the service, and especially at the cemetery.

Phillip’s tense expression mirrored the looks of many of the other RK800s, who were gathered around in what almost looked like a defensive arrangement. They were quiet, watching and scanning for some kind of threat, but there never was one. Still, they were there in support, and that was all that mattered.

The sun shone down on them all brightly, so contrasted to the sobering looks on each of their faces and the silence that reigned over them all, once the coffin was lowered and covered. But they didn’t question the strangely cheery setting, despite their apathy toward it. Perhaps they saw it as a sign of better things to come. Heaven knows they needed it. Even the luckiest of them were wishing for brighter days than their gloomy pasts.

When the service was over, and the casket was lowered, and Miranda and Elise had returned to their car to go home, Connor lingered, staring down at the new headstone with a strange look in his eyes. Charlie’s words were echoing through his mind, from the garden, from the day they had met, from a thousand little moments. For the first time since Stratford, it felt real that she was gone…

_“I’m right here. They can’t take that away, no matter what happens…”_

Connor tightened his grip on Charlotte’s hand and turned away. They were quiet as they walked slowly back toward the cars.

“Connor?” Miranda called, standing just outside her car, Elise already inside. “Why don’t you two ride with us?”

He stared for a moment, somehow managing to find his voice. “What about the others?”

“They’re taking the other cars. Come on,” she waved them over.

Connor fidgeted for a moment, but ultimately he nodded, trudging over to the car with Charlotte in tow. They got in the car quickly, and Miranda pulled out right away, her expression stiff.

For a few minutes, it was silent in the car as they drove back to Miranda’s house. Charlotte was fiddling with Connor’s quarter, an action mirrored in Elise’s fidgeting with her bag strap. Charlie’s second sister had hardly spoken a word to any of them since they had trailed into Miranda’s house weeks ago. It wasn’t hate that she harbored toward the group of androids, it was more discomfort, and a bit of confusion. But Miranda said this android—Connor, she reminded herself—had loved Charlie, and that was enough to keep her from dismissing them immediately.

It didn’t mean she wasn’t uncomfortable, however, pulling at the zipper of her bag to distract herself. Charlie was gone, buried now, and the android she had loved (and his eleven doppelgängers) were all surrounding her. What to make of it? Elise had no idea, and so she ignored it. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as the car drove carefully down the suburban streets, only glancing around occasionally, as if she were in a trance.

After a while, however, as the silence became too much to bear, Elise flipped on the radio of the old car. And suddenly the car was filled with the sound of Pink Floyd, as Wish You Were Here crept through the stereo and through the car. Charlie had loved this song, had dug up the CD from the piles and piles their father had collected over the years. Elise could remember her playing it in her car when she had first learned to drive, singing along in that carefree way she always had about her.

Charlie could make a sad song sound like a love song, a ballad sound like a requiem, she could change the whole shape of a song if she wanted to. She could change a _person_ if she wanted to.

The quiet melancholy of the song swept over them in a way that felt too close to reality to have been a coincidence. This couldn’t just be chance, that such a song had come on—it was almost as if Charlie were in the car with them, fiddling with the radio herself until she found something she liked. They could almost imagine her singing along to the sad song, putting all her heart into it, like she did with everything.

Connor stared out the window as barren corn fields rolled by, his thoughts on the sound of Charlie’s voice, her hand in his, all the things she had said in the garden, and before. As the song faded away, and they pulled up at Miranda’s house beside the others, Connor thought of Charlie, and the way in which she had burst into his life and burst out of it in a tragic flashbang, a short lived euphoria that left him reeling in a cold new world.

But as Charlotte took his hand and they walked quietly up to Miranda’s door, Connor remembered a rather crucial piece of Charlie’s advice to him. _“A chance, even if it’s one in a million, is still better than no chance.”_ Better days would surely come. He just had to wait for them.

Just a little longer.

***

Miranda’s house was massive compared to Charlie’s.

Being the oldest, Miranda had inherited their parents’ home in all of its sprawling disuse when their father had died several years before. To the twelve androids now occupying it alongside Miranda and Elise, the house was a mansion. There were several rooms that hadn’t been used in years, giving the entire house a partially abandoned feel. It seemed ghosts of the past lingered everywhere, whether in long discarded items in the rooms or the light layer of dust that covered the many sealed off doors. As splendid as the house was, after their father’s death and Charlie’s move years ago, the house had gently slipped into its own form of death.

Well, at least it used to feel that way. Now, the house was more full than it had been in years. Since the lift on evacuations, all of the RKs (and Charlotte, of course) had followed after Miranda out of Detroit and back to the small Illinois town she called home.

Although she had initially thought they would take their leave as soon as possible, it seemed they planned to linger. They didn’t need much space, and tended to stick in groups, even in the house. It was strange seeing them all together and trying to keep them all sorted in her mind, but Miranda was slowly getting the hang of it.

Connor, Nicholas, and Phillip had become the decision makers of the group, but they never did much of anything unless the group as a whole agreed. Experience separated these three from the rest, but they never saw themselves as above the others. They always spoke as a group before doing anything, although they hadn’t done much of anything yet. The main decision they had come to so far was to stick with Miranda and Elise until they had somewhere for them all to go. Splitting off still didn’t seem to be an option for them.

This worked out fairly well, surprisingly. Miranda had grown accustomed to their presence in the house. The only problem initially was Elise, who was skeptical of the androids’ presence (and just them in general). But after a few days, Miranda had convinced her that they were safe enough for them to stay. Once the situation was explained, even the frenetic Elise got used to the RKs lurking around the house. Not that they ever caused any trouble.

Well…they didn’t cause trouble for the Andrews family at least.

With the Detroit revolution’s end in success came several new rights for androids, but the fight was far from over, even in the most progressive areas. All things considered, it was for the best they left Detroit when they did. Tensions were far from eased, and a group of the most advanced prototypes ever created (who didn’t really side with humans _or_ deviants) would not have gone unnoticed by either side. The media would be on them immediately, which wasn’t something any of them wanted or needed, and Markus certainly wouldn’t have let them go so quickly if they remained close.

Besides, as much as Markus and the others made attempts to assure the other deviants of the RKs’ passivity, there were still many androids who didn’t trust them. Connor may have been the only among them to truly hunt and capture deviants, but they all shared general appearance, which was enough for most people to immediately jump to conclusions And the attitudes of the RKs towards Markus and Simon wasn’t exactly helping their cause (not that they cared). They weren’t hostile, but they were seen as separate at least, which would only lead to more problems if they lingered near the other deviants.

Yes, it was best that they stay away.

Phillip didn’t mind this at all. Things were simpler for him in places he had never been, surrounded only by people he trusted. It was far easier to remember he was safe when there was nothing to remind him of the things in his past, no Tower or dying androids, no city with too many memories. Illinois was a completely new experience, a fresh start, which greatly helped. And of course, Nicholas was always there whenever he needed him.

It was almost strange to have all this time, all this space to do whatever they wanted. Once their rights were guaranteed, and Nicholas was certain that they were safe, they had taken to wandering the little town they currently occupied. There wasn’t much to see, but it was enough to occupy their time, and that was all that mattered to them. Usually, at least one of the others would come along with them (-60 in particular seemed to enjoy their company), but today they were alone as they wandered.

Phillip was bundled up in more layers than he really needed, but he didn’t mind. Miranda and Elise had spent the last week dragging them off in pairs to get clothes. She said it was outrageous for them all to still wear their Cyberlife jackets, but to be fair, it did make it much easier to tell them apart (Nicholas and Connor were the most instantly recognizable, followed by Phillip, who still hadn’t repaired his hand, but Elise still struggled with them all). Miranda had insisted they get their own clothes, however, taking them out and hushing them when they told her they didn’t have any need for the excess.

But Phillip much preferred other clothes. Some of the others didn’t like it, but he had taken to wearing different clothes the fastest—big soft things that were nothing like what he had been forced to wear for months. Anything different from the prim and proper suit and tie was good enough for him—big sweaters and coats, scarves and gloves, anything large and warm would do, really. He practically drowned in everything he wore, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel…safe.

That was why he was currently smothered in so many layers of clothes as he and Nicholas wandered around. Well, that and it really was cold out, and he hated the cold. They weren’t particularly sensitive to temperature, but...it brought up far too many bad memories regardless. Pulling his coat tighter around himself, Phillip moved closer to Nicholas on the path, reaching for his hand absentmindedly.

Nicholas took his hand right away, pulling him closer still. “What is it?”

“N-N-Nothing in p-p-p-particular...” he replied cryptically. “I’m...alright.”

Nicholas hummed, but didn’t reject the statement. Instead, he looked around the path they were currently walking down. They had ended up at the same forest preserve they always did, wandering down winding paths and making their way toward a set of waterfalls tucked far back into the park. It was nearly Christmas, but the snow was far lighter here than it had been in Detroit. The wind was less extreme, the snow softer, as if the whole state was just a little gentler.

“I think I prefer Illinois to Michigan,” Nicholas mused, looking around at the trees coated in snow. “At least…I enjoy it here more than I did Detroit.”

Phillip agreed, but his expression remained dark. “I d-don’t like the c-c-c-cold…”

Nicholas nodded, letting him trail off. “Perhaps we could go farther west, once we have things sorted. Somewhere warmer, far from here.”

“I...w-w-would like that,” Phillip said quietly, seeming a little better than he had been a moment before.

They fell into a more comfortable silence then, walking quietly down the path until it broke out at a bridge; they had reached the waterfalls. They weren’t very big (they were in Illinois, there were maybe twelve hills in the entire state, and only a few that were big enough to give a good waterfall) but they were still beautiful. Nicholas leaned over the railing a bit, watching as the water crashed over the set of rocks at the bottom.

“We sh-should have b-b-brought the others,” Phillip said after a moment, pulling at the gloves on his hands as he leaned on the railing next to Nicholas. “Charlotte would love it here.”

“There will be time for them to come later,” Nicholas grumbled, pulling Phillip closer and wrapping his arms around him lazily. “For now, I enjoy being alone.”

Phillip hummed, leaning into him. “I s-suppose y-y-you’re r-right.”

“I’m always right, we’ve talked about this,” Nicholas said, mostly into Phillip’s coat.

Phillip laughed lightly, which only made Nicholas hold tighter to him with a smirk. The wind sent a light dusting of snow past them from the railing. Phillip leaned away from it, back into Nicholas, whose only response was to pull him closer, shielding him from the cold.

“I’m...alright,” Phillip mumbled, but there was a slight shake to his shoulders now. “It’s j-j-just the c-c-cold...I h-hate it.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I know...It’s...irrational.”

“It’s not irrational. It’s understandable. There are worse things to despise. But I’m right here—I’ve got you.”

Phillip nodded, taking Nicholas’ hands in his own and looking across the water again to distract himself. “This is still f-far b-b-better than before...I don’t ever w-w-want to see Detroit again.”

“Mhm,” Nicholas hummed, following his gaze for a moment. “It’s certainly beautiful here,” he allowed before burying his face in Phillip’s coat again with a grumble.

“I l-love it.”

Nicholas mumbled something incoherent in reply, still speaking into Phillip’s coat as he held him.

“I c-c-can’t understand y-you...w-w-when y-you talk into m-my coat,” Phillip said lightly, chuckling again.

He huffed, resting his chin on Phillip’s shoulder and looking at the water again. “I said I love _you_.”

Phillip froze, grabbing tighter to Nicholas’ hands. _“Oh…”_

Nicholas leaned his head against Phillip’s, seemingly unphased by his hesitance. The water continued to roil underneath them, and they watched it quietly for a few moments. They stood together by the railing, watching the water and the half melted snow in silence. It wasn’t an oppressive quiet, only a careful one. But Phillip seemed to gain some confidence back after a moment, a ghost of a smile on his face as he leaned back into Nicholas again.

“I l-l-love y-you, t-t-too.”

“I know,” Nicholas sighed, sounding almost forlorn, if it weren’t for the smile quickly spreading across his usually passive face. “Your name suits you.”

“I w-would hope y-you th-think so...y-y-you chose it.”

“Yes, I remember, and you chose mine.”

“Y-Yours is...j-j-just as f-fitting, t-trust m-m-me.”

Nicholas hummed again, smirking as he pulled away for a moment, but only to turn Phillip around to face him. “We should probably head back…”

Phillip made a face. “J-Just a little...l-longer.”

Nicholas smiled, straightened the hat Phillip wore gently, his hand lingering for a moment before he took Phillip’s hand again.

“Alright.”


End file.
